#crossposting from another site

[vfx-batman]

I am never not thinking about the load-bearing bodies in the Batman franchise (Thomas + Martha, Jason, + 90s Gotham in Peril) + how they each echo throughout the canon.

Successive authors keep setting up storylines which either implicitly or explicitly call back to these distinct frameworks of loss (eg. Batman encountering others who have lost or will lose their parents; Batman's kids after Jason all (temporarily) dying in some way; Batman's city forever succumbing to some existentially threatening trouble across the twenty-first century). All these, consciously or not, tap into the potent feelings of grief staked out by the original losses, + yet I find they fail to overwrite the OG memory in part because it was experiencing these unique types of losses for the first time that made these bodies matter. Metatextually, they each became the foundation to a different floor of Bruce's characterisation.

The loss of his parent/s => the man who would create the Batman. The loss of his child => the man who would struggle to maintain meaningful emotional bonds. And finally, the loss of his city, a process inaugurated by the Cult but solidified by No Man's Land => the man who could no longer envision a better world for Gotham and was left defending its remnants.

This is another reason why I believe the Batcat marriage from Rebirth Batman should've gone ahead + ended in divorce. If Bruce + Selina had genuinely done their best but it wasn't enough, Batman would have experienced a new framework of loss - the loss of a partner who chose to walk away. And instead of making him worse, maybe, just maybe, the mourning cycle kicked off by this grief would have led to him appreciating the people he still has.

[kozukind]

first date everything post!

this is me shamelessly plugging my first date everything work you can find on ao3— most likely to be crossposted on tumblr very soon!

warnings: none(?)

Mac has seen everything there is to see about the house owner. From the ugly to the good to the devastatingly horrid, the crude fanfiction to the diary entries where they’d wish to disappear and stop the charade of being alive. In silence, the two of them harbor a secret relationship. One where Mac is the sole witness of the human’s pain, and in return, the human relies on Mac for everything needed.

It’s an exchange, one which helps the computer understand its owner more and more each day— laid bare before them and the entire space to see. The way their fingers tremble, the slight furl of their eyebrows, the slight tears ever so omnipresent in their eyes. 

Maybe that’s why Skylar Specs’ existence had come to be a blessing for them, a saviour in the passing time proved an obstacle for someone so fragile— so human-like and never steady against the unstopping waves of adult life. The human personification of life’s punching ball.

“…Uhm, hi.” A small sound, just like they’re so small, figuratively but also quite physically— they curl up on themselves and look to be falling as if the entire weight of their existence pulls them down with their shame, Mac doesn’t comment on it, lest they want to drive them further away. It’s the contrary, they want to be skin to skin, lay the human bare to the continuity of their worship and show them that through everything, they’ll be there.

That even if the world has given up on them, Mac for one would never, just like they always had treated the computer with care. It’s a childish sentimental affection in which, everytime their friends came over and rambled about having to replace what they had deemed a decaying equipment, they were never discarded. 

No, Mac was cherished. Updated and fed with the latest updates their system would allow, stared at for hours on end, smiled at— confessed to, a concept of soothing for a being that barely considered itself human anymore, an entity who in the gadget's eyes, was worth more than any high performance data pack a new site could introduce.

They’d both stand at an impasse— an update the other couldn’t have. And whereas Mac was fine with that and found themselves performant enough, the others would always shyly look away— unwanting in the attention now placed on them in their expectations of meeting a grand new blossoming romance.

(Something Mac hoped and knew they could gain— another step after the endless nights together, only a step further into the dance they both could not carry but would try to lead anyway).

They want to be this version of themselves, at their best settings and optimal capacity— not only for themselves, but for them too, because Mac knows when they are in dire need of assistance.

The human does not.

And unlike (some) objects around the house, Mac also knows the desire that stems from being desired, wanted and more importantly acknowledged. The fantasy of a romance with the others does not bother them, much like having the homeowner to themselves does not sound ugliest in the least, it’s a compromise some won’t make, but that they’re willing to work with to know what’s important not in their preferred relationship, with and for the homeowner.

They are fine with sharing, as long as they can be looked at too, 11.4 hours on weekdays and 14.6 hours on weekends, a part of a routine, a puzzle piece in something important to their lover.

Said custom a motion through the days now, known frames by frames, movements for movements. They walk in and Mac smiles at them, letting them sit on the floor with their head on their lap, silently muttering nonsense from the early morning (and unsavory meeting with Nightmare, not that Mac had to know). And despite their own faulty tiredness in the form of having been left on all night, Mac fantasizes about this even as it becomes real.

..Guiding their hand through the human’s hair, whispering sweet nothings into their waiting form— eager to soak up all the affection their computer can offer, feeding off the jealousy of the other’s furniture and marking themselves as one of the first to be so close to them.

It is not a competition, but still an important achievement they will carry with them— they would love a virus all they could, even when the human discarded them all in favor of soaking in their own misery, much like all the other objects wait. Some cause more bad than good, it’s a tough process, human adulthood.

With a dreamy sigh, they close their eyes, letting the door close behind with their hands as the only witness of the privilege given to them. They had it in their palm, the trust of their beloved.

God, it feels so good to want and somehow be sought out.

[burins]

kroger shoppers and butch4butch: failures of categorization, failures of desire

(originally published in 2023’s yaoi zine 2: the analysis issue and I realized I never crossposted. you Should check out the full pdf. it slaps.)

I. Survey Fatigue

The year after graduating college, I spent about six months filling out online surveys. In between sending out job applications, I trawled r/beermoney and r/workonline for survey clearinghouse websites, where I could (ostensibly) earn money by giving various nebulous corporations a large amount of information about my preferences on everything from TV to deodorant.

Unfortunately for the me of 2016, survey clearinghouses are not actually a great way to make very much money. Most surveys with low barriers to entry don’t pay very well, unless you happen to stumble on a well-funded academic researcher. Even in a more naive era in which there was still an expectation that consumers should be paid for their data, the ecosystem of survey-based consumer demographics collection is deeply exploitative, with most surveys on public clearinghouses that aggregate many different companies together paying well below minimum wage for the amount of time they take to fill out. (We’re talking, like, $1 for 20 minutes.) Which makes sense, as their ideal candidate is middle-aged, upper middle-class or higher, owns a home and at least one car, has multiple kids, is considering upgrading every category of possession imaginable, and is taking this survey in her free time because she feels deeply passionate about shaping the products of the future. (Many surveys are aimed at women, because, you know. Women be shopping.)

What survey clearinghouses are, instead, is a fantastic way to spend a lot of time thinking about how others might categorize your identity. Marketing research focuses on particular demographic categories, and survey clearinghouse sites overwhelmingly use screeners to make sure that only people who fit that category take the survey. If you’re a marketer interested in the grocery habits of northeastern women with multiple kids, you don’t want some single guy in California’s data. But if you’re a single guy in California, or (just as an example) a nonbinary recent college grad in the south, trying to make some extra cash, and you know you won’t get paid for the time you spent taking the screener, it’s in your interest to try to figure out exactly what the marketers want from you, and adapt your profile accordingly. And this is the internet, so every survey clearinghouse has its own subreddit full of advice for newbies.

(Bear with me; I promise we will get to the yaoi.)

Of course, the posts assure you, you don’t want to outright lie. If you say you’re a retired white midwesterner with two grandkids on one survey, and on another you tell them you live in Seattle in an apartment making tech money, eventually the survey clearinghouse is going to figure it out, and they will ban you. But, the posts continue, it is in your interest to stretch the truth. After all, aren’t the survey companies exploiting us? Shouldn’t we get to, just a little bit, exploit them back?

So I put down the total household income of everyone I was living with, even though we paid bills separately; my kid siblings, who lived multiple hours away, suddenly became residents of this same household, as did my parents’ newly acquired dog; and I became interested in every possible purchasing category imaginable. Sure, I was planning to purchase a vacuum cleaner in the next six months. Yes, I considered myself a power beverage drinker. Yes, that one hookah session did mean that I smoked tobacco regularly, and also I drank a lot, and I was planning to buy a car soon, and a toaster oven, and I made business decisions at my place of employment (my bedroom), and also, also, also, I was a woman.

Back in 2016, very few marketing surveys allowed you to select any category except male or female on the gender question, which was usually the first question asked. I’m not sure if this has changed, but even when surveys did offer nonbinary as an option, I usually selected female.

As of 2021, 1.2 million adults in the US identify as nonbinary. This is a big number; it is also vanishingly small from a marketing perspective, especially when you begin further population segmentation, and especially because 68% of those 1.2 million adults report not having enough money to make ends meet. The majority of us aren’t exactly splashing out on vacation homes. Which means that very few surveys target us, which means, as a nonbinary person trying to make ends meet, I said “oh yes I’m a woman! please let me into your survey” all the time.

I could make an argument that this is an inherently transgender thing to do, that my choice to create a survey identity who crossed as many categories as I could feasibly claim was an act of transcendent self-creation and boundary-blurring. My drag persona, Kroger shopper [oldname] Shipyrds, created for a world that did not have a category for me. If I was writing this essay for Vox or something, maybe I would make this argument, and the essay could end here, on a vaguely triumphant note about the ways trans people manage to exist under capitalism.

But I don’t find the closet liberatory. Mostly, it felt kind of depressing, and also pretty futile, because– much like actually being a woman– I wasn’t very good at it. To make surveys into a successful career– well, first, I’m not sure it’s actually possible, unless you get hired by one of these firms to do blind shopping or focus groups, and even that’s pretty precarious. And second, you have to do it all the time, and you have to install a whole host of scripts and add-ons written by other members of the community to help you grab surveys quicker, to auto-input your pre-loaded information, to tell you which firms are reputable and which ones will trap you in endless screeners before kicking you out without pay after you’ve already given them the info they want. There was a kind of arms race happening between the marketers and the survey takers, because of course the marketers don’t want people who are doing this full time taking their surveys, because we’re not a normal representation of American society, and also because we lie. And I wasn’t particularly good at lying, and I didn’t want to put in the unpaid time to install all of these add-ons and tweak them to my exact specifications, and so as soon as I found other work that paid better, I laid Kroger shopper [oldname] Shipyrds to rest.

II. Lesbian Male Homosexual Sex

Now on to the yaoi. A few months ago, a quote floated across my dash, from Gayle Rubin’s “Of Catamites and Kings: Reflections on Butch, Gender, and Boundaries,” an article in the 2006 collection The Transgender Studies Reader.

“Although [butch-butch eroticism] is not uncommon, lesbian culture contains few models for it. Many butches who lust after other butches have looked to gay male literature and behavior as sources of imagery and language. The erotic dynamics of butch-butch sex sometimes resemble those of gay men…Many butch-butch couples think of themselves as women doing male homosexual sex with one another.”

As you may imagine, I found this delightful. And I think it is also applicable to the eternal question of why lesbians read yaoi. There’s been a tremendous amount of writing and handwringing on this elsewhere, both on social media and academically. Are lesbians who read yaoi fetishizing gay men? Are we betraying our lesbian identities by not reading yuri instead? (As we all know you can only read one kind of content.) Lesbians who read Kirk/Spock slash fiction popped up in 1980s-era writing during the pornography wars; Akiko Mizoguchi has been writing on lesbians who read yaoi (in the specific, not the generic) since 2003.

Lesbians who read yaoi is a thorny question from the outside, but from a butch perspective it seems very simple. A number of the arguments imply that lesbians read yaoi because we want to be men, which for a lot of (I would even go so far as to say most) lesbians is so untrue as to be offensive. The other side of the argument is equally bad: Joanna Russ’s 1985 Kirk/Spock essay has a lot of loving descriptions of the inherent tender and nurturing nature of K/S slash fic, which for anyone who has ever read pon farr fic is. Kind of laughable. The fic is nurturing, she argues, because K/S fans are writing Kirk and Spock as women, and thus the porn is actually fine to read, because it’s two women having beautiful life-affirming sex, in a way where everyone’s boundaries are respected and no one ever gets hurt. (As we all know lesbians never fuck nasty.)

The argument about the morality of pornography aside– that’s another essay– I don’t think either of these arguments are actually true, or at least, they’re not true for me, which after all is the only perspective I can give without doing some survey design of my own. I read yaoi because I enjoy it, because of the tropes and the angst and the stupid bullshit plot machinations, and yes, also because I’m not a woman, and I’m not a man, but I am a dyke and also a twink and when I have sex it’s gay and lesbian at the same time, and so sometimes I want to read (and write!) about gay male sex. (One of the joys of being trans is that you get to feel like the meme about the School of Athens just by moving through the world.)

III. Yaoi and Categorization

These are two different essays, sort of, but they are also the same essay, because ultimately both the entire field of market research and the question of lesbian yaoi readers are failures both of categorization and of desire.

Marketing research, much like gender identity, is an attempt to fit the vastness of human experience into a series of small boxes that can be easily quantified. This is by necessity: if your job requires you to analyze data, your data must be manipulable, comparable across categories, vaguely replicable. But you are also asking people questions about what they want. How much do they want a bottle of iced tea over a can of Coke? Does adding a leaf to the label change the intensity of that feeling? How do you put numbers on desire? How do you put labels on it, so that it can be compared to other types of wanting?

Desire in the world of marketing research is a deeply beige, wan emotion, limited to the constraints of the capitalist imagination. But it is the only emotion in that world, and marketers want nothing more than to make it stronger. They want you to feel the same kind of overwhelming lust when you see an ad for chicken wings that you feel when you see someone you want to fuck. They want your desire to be very strong, and they want it to be about consumption and possession, and they want you to feel it all the time. And also, they’d like you to answer some questions about it, please, and in exchange they’ll enter you into a drawing for a $25 Amazon gift card.

This desire is impossible. There is nothing less sexy than a survey; even surveys about things like alcohol or makeup place their product designs on white backgrounds, devoid of all of the surrounding drivers of want– the hot butch at the bar drinking the green-bottled beer, the person wearing the maybe it’s Maybelline lipstick. We live in a society! Desire doesn’t exist in a vacuum!

And for that reason, the more ungovernable and uncategorizable my desire, the better it feels. There is no place on the survey for butch dykes having male homosexual sex; there is a place in the research for it, but always as a sort of curiosity, a quandary that requires explanation, because this type of desire exists outside of the researcher’s imagination.

And increasingly, I am unsure that I want a place in either locale. There is an argument to be made that by allowing ourselves to be studied, we normalize and cement our place in the world. To some degree, this is true. It is hard to accept something you do not believe exists. But also, I don’t believe that the answer to the unfulfilling and exploitative hunger of the marketing survey is to spend our energy advocating for more categories so I can be more accurately sold toothpaste. I feel more and more resistant to the idea (ironic though it may seem several thousand words into this essay) that I should categorize my desire at all. In the end, the best way to articulate my desire– to myself and to others– is to live it. And also, to go read some yaoi.

--

1 Some of these posts also advised fudging your race, as survey slots for more common (read: white) demographic categories tended to fill up faster, or at least the posters seemed to think they did. This was a line I was not willing to cross, but the prevalence and comfort with which some of these posters talked about racefaking for pretty minimal amounts of money could be an essay of its own.

2  The entirety of Russ’s essay is pretty interesting, not just for the Gender of it all, but also because towards the end she almost gets there: “Until recently I assumed, along with many other feminists, that ‘art’ is better than ‘pornography’ just as ‘erotica’ is one thing and ‘pornography’ another; and just as ‘erotica’ surpasses ‘pornography,’ so ‘art’ surpasses ‘erotica.’ I think we ought to be very suspicious of these distinctions insofar as they are put forward as moral distinctions.” 

--

Sources:

Bauer, C. K. (2013). Naughty Girls and Gay Male Romance/Porn: Slash Fiction, Boys’ Love Manga, and Other Works by Female "Cross-Voyeurs" in the US Academic Discourses. Anchor Academic Publishing.

Meerwijk, E. L., & Sevelius, J. M. (2017). Transgender population size in the United States: A meta-regression of population-based probability samples. American Journal of Public Health, 107(2), e1–e8. https://doi.org/10.2105/AJPH.2016.303578

Mizoguchi, A. (2003). Male-male romance by and for women in Japan: A history and the subgenres of “yaoi” fictions. U.S.-Japan Women’s Journal, 25, 49–75.

Rubin, G. (2006). Of catamites and kings: Reflections on butch, gender, and boundaries. In S. Stryker & S. Whittle (Eds.), The Transgender Studies Reader (Vol. 1, pp. 471–481). Routledge.

Russ, J. (1985). Pornography by women for women, with love. Magic Mommas, Trembling Sisters, Puritans & Perverts, 79-100. Crossing Press.

Wilson, B. D. M., & Meyer, I. H. (2021). Nonbinary LGBTQ Adults in the United States. Williams Institute.

[sol-consort]

My brain got bodyslammed today thinking about Pervy Quarian Roommate again and his method of "boosting his immune system" by making out with reader. The bodyslam came with extrapolating of off the theory of humans inventing kissing as a means of innocculating others to our germs to a pipeline of how breastmilk is also said to help a babies immune system and Quarian Roommate learning about this and just plummeting down a rabbithole of fantasies about reader pregnant and swollen and needing milking and he's all to happy to offer to help them. He can't see his helmets foggier than normal, can't even speak without risking saying something completly unhinged to the reader about the sites he's been visiting lately, he's a mess. Someone help him.

(Sorry if this is too much, just had to yeet this into the aether to clear it from my mind)

You know what? I'm proud of you for yeeting this into my aether. It takes courage!! This is a kink positive blog. Also, lowkey really motivated me to write like damn this is a minty fresh prompt that I haven't done before, I'm intrigued, I'm curious, imma take a dip in the milk pool. Was supposed to be a drabble, turned into a whole fic, bon appetite? (pun intended) Will crosspost it to AO3 later.

Quarians Can Get Humans Pregnant, You're Just Not Trying Hard Enough!

(yes this is the title I settled on)

[Heavy smut, breastfeeding kink, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, perversion, male quarian being a degenerate, health kink if you squint? SOME plot]

[AFAB reader has a vagina/breasts, Ambiguous gender, GN pronouns]

Loosely follows this roommate series as part one, but can stand on its own.

The thing about human breasts is that because it's such a common fact of life, a lot of sources and wiki articles on breastfeeding fail to mention that milk production is mostly only possible by pregnancy. In the majority of mammals, their breasts only visibly swell with fat after pregnancy, then gradually decrease post birth. Humans are a minority with our constantly visible round tits 24/7.

And that fact might slip by other species, most importantly the sheltered alien who can't make it two paragraphs into the Human Anatomy Wikipedia without getting a raging boner and losing all focus. The words blurring into one another as all he can think about are the hard nipples he saw poking through your shirt one cold morning.

Because he is such a bad reader and an incredibly perverted person, he might just think that you're already pregnant. Incubating a life inside you. That it's just a matter of time before you become groggy, sleepy, and cuddly all day long. Swollen and heavy, always craving something to munch on, always cozy in bed with fluffy blankets, chest even bigger than before, tits swollen and spilling over your now tight top.

But ah, that fantasy falls apart if the alien in question is a quarian. It would've worked with literally any other alien species besides them and the asari since they also happen to share this rare anatomical trait of humans.

So he knows you're not pregnant. But you know what they say about yearning? The harder something is to reach, the more tantalising and desirable it becomes, and the more delicious it is to achieve.

The fact that you are currently not pregnant is borderline blasphemous in his eyes. It's a crime! Your fellow humans must have lost their mind or something to let someone as strong, healthy, smart, and beautiful as you just stay barren.

This isn't his rose-tinted views talking... well, maybe it is. But nonetheless, you're a prime candidate for breeding. So fertile and healthy. Your body will be accommodating to any cock it takes inside, your womb practically begging to overflow with cum.

You need a baby inside you. Plain and simple. He swears he can't understand the human mind at times.

It's so infuriating. He's like a starving person watching a bunch of people pass up on a literal feast in front of his eyes. It's so unfair that he can't get you pregnant himself.

Be it nurture or nature, fantasies of breeding you constantly plague his mind. Seemingly popping at the most innocent times... and some not so innocent times.

Oh, trust him. If he could, he would.

If only.

On one hand, he is turning green with envy at the mere thought of a human courting you. On the other hand, he knows there is a zero chance of you getting pregnant without another human being involved.

He could stuff you with his cum all day long until your legs are wobbly and your tummy has a subtle bulge to it. An opaque fluid seeping from your cunt and onto the mattress below, hole gaping and closing in rhythm with your heavy breathes as you lay there all spent and oversensitive.

He wants to have his cake and eat it too.

He wants your boobs heavy and leaking, your tummy full and round, whilst being the only person allowed to creampie you.

Not that he actually ever got further than kissing you under the pretence of training his immune system—all the antibiotic shots he needed to take in secret afterwards were totally worth it—what matters is that you believed him! That you happily and enthusiastically smothered him with kisses until your lips were shiny and glossy.

If only he could get over his fears and confess... alas, each time he comes close to it, he chickens out. Especially with the uh other roommates' eyes digging into his back whenever he attempts to have a "private" chat with you in the hallway. Yeah, the walls are really thin in here.

A man can dream, at the very least.

Weave his own fairytale of sharing a house with you, just the two of you. Maybe a modern apartment in the Citadel overlooking the persidium, maybe a house with a spacious yard in an upcoming colony, maybe saving up for a good domestic ship and touring the galaxy together.

What matters is, in his fantasy, you're always waiting for him back home. Greeting him at the door, barefoot with your face all flushed and pouty, already mad at him for something. You forgot what it is, but you're still mad nonetheless.

He has to restrain himself from melting into a puddle on the floor right then and there, how adorable you are whilst being all huffy and puffy.

Of course, he'll make it up to you. He'll do whatever you ask. He'll get you whatever food you want. Want him to massage your feet after he makes you a cup of hot tea? Want to sit in his lap and let him rub your round stomach in a comforting motion?

He'll play the role of the dutiful husband to the nines!

Or is his pretty human all moody because your chest is too heavy? Did it get too swollen with milk while he was away? Is that what's been bothering you all day?

Poor baby, let your husband help you with it. You always liked tracing the star patterns on his galaxy skin while cradling his head to your chest.

A dark purple tongue littering kitten licks atop your soft nipple, watching it harden against the cold air, coaxing the tender thing into his mouth, twirling it around with his tongue.

Just to prolong the process, just to get to play house with you a little more. And you're just so needy for his mouth to relieve you of all of this milk weighing down your chest, that you don't even have the energy to tell him off for deliberately teasing you.

Your eyes glossed over the second he took your nipple into his mouth, your brain turned into mush, the heat in your core intensified.

It feels so right, having someone drink from your chest. Your body knows it feels right and it rewards you for fulfilling your purpose, it makes you so happy and pliant, makes you so docile as you sit there slightly squirming, gentle hands cradling his head, burying it against your tits even more in hopes he'll take the hint and start drinking.

Why isn't he drinking yet? You really need to get this milk out, it's too much. You're almost brought to tears, he is being too mean...

You're still in your new clothes and all—the fresh ones you had to change into merely minutes before his arrival because the previous ones were all stained from your chest just leaking all day long—comfortably nuzzled on his lap, facing him with your back against the headboard of the bed.

Nursing bra pushed under your boobs alongside your low-cut top, making your tits literally spill over your clothes. You did all of this for him, and he's still not drinking from you.

The quarian learned how to read human emotions while living with you, or maybe it was you who became more and more of an open book around him the more time went on, especially with you pregnant with his child, how vulnerable and treasured this made you feel.

Before it became too much, you felt that familiar sensation, his lips tightening around your nipple before sucking against it. Great relief washed over you.

It's weirdly vulnerable, having someone nurse from your chest, the most intimate act you can imagine. There is no room left for shame, or else, this is as bare and exposed as you can ever be with another person without merging your souls into one.

A soft sigh escapes you, eyes closing, your head tilting back against the headboard.

He's draining the milk out of you, sucking until he collects a generous mouthful, and then the sound of a big gulp follows.

You hold him tight through it, keep tenderly cradling his head to your chest, encouraging him to drink up to his heart's content.

Gradually, one of your boobs begins feeling lighter. Like a boulder lifted off of your shoulders. At the same time, a new sensation begins taking place. Now the nipple squished between his lips is all sore and aching. Half your breast is completely shiny with his spit as he licks it entirely clean, not letting a single drop of milk go to waste.

It's always hard getting him to stop latching onto one and move to the other breast; his whines as you cup your boob away from him almost breaks you, that subtle vibration in the quarians' voicecords always tug at your heartstrings.

But he doesn't move to stop you, merely attempting to chase it with his lips for a few seconds before accepting his fate. Giving you these puppydog eyes, dark pupils fading into the sclera, blurring at the edges, a light iridescence to his irises, shifting in hue as he tilts his head to the side.

Mewling for more of your milk, of your love, of you.

It's always hard. Not because he's stubborn, quite the opposite, but because it's emotionally taxing. You'd think you were betraying him from the way he looks like a kicked puppy, silently pleading for more.

Sometimes you glimpse moments of lucidity, just how bizarre it is that you're really sitting in here, nursing an alien, and a very pretty one at that, while pregnant with his child.

That somehow across the planets and stars, somehow fate deemed it amiable to make the milk humans produce not only very compatible and safe to consume to a certain group, but that very same alien species seeks it out like liquid gold. It lights up all the right spots in their brain, it's the tastiest thing they could possibly consume.

So imagine their deflated reaction when the human race turned out to be too prudish and unnerved by the quarians' enthusiasm and apparent shamelessness in their giddy request.

But not in this house. Sure, if another alien had asked you for such a thing, you'd send them into orbit with zero hesitation.

Never with him, you could never refuse him a request. How lucky he is to have someone so understanding and accommodating like you.

Cupping his cheek with your hand, your tilt his head up, lips brushing against his own in a soft kiss. He's more than receptive as he deepens the kiss, making you taste yourself, traces of your very own sweet milk evident in his greedy mouth.

Pulling you even close on his lap, squeezing your thighs, kneading the doughy thing. How can someone so beautiful be so strong? At times, you swear he appears as delicate as a flower made from star clusters painted across a dark abyss.

At other times, when he picks you up so easily at the front door, carrying you to the bed without breaking a sweat. Simply cooing at your adorable upset expression, leaving light pecks across your face and neck as a way to kiss the moodiness away. And you're reminded of who you're dealing with, the wolf in sheep's clothings.

Especially now, with these "delicate" fragile-looking fingers squishing the fat on your hips and thighs, completely massaging all the knots out, a steel grip keeping you secured to his lap.

To think all this beauty was hidden away behind a metallic environmental suit for years and years... finally blossoming in front of your eyes.

You break the kiss just as he begins rolling his hips from under you. Knowing exactly what's the thing poking under your thigh is. You got him all excited and worked up from a simple kiss, or maybe getting easily riled up is just one of the side effects of a quarian being milkdrunk.

Cupping your other breast, the still full one, you attempt to slightly nudge it up a bit. Your hand is clearly not big enough. The soft fat spilling from the corners. To add insult to injury, you only served to aid gravity into squeezing it flat against the palm of your hand.

Pursing your lips in an attempt to suppress the embarrassing groan leaving you at the sensation of having your swollen breast squeezed, even by accident. The tip is already covered in a sheer milky liquid, leaking droplets of your precious milk, feeling it trickle down the underside of your breast, soaking the fingers still holding it up.

The hands under your thighs secure their grip, lifting you slightly in the air, pressing you against the headboard. Your thighs squeeze together under your round stomach. The quarian has a better ease of access now, lowering his head to reach the underside of your chest.

A shiver runs through you at the feeling of his tongue licking stripes down there, moving across your fingers, cleaning them from the precious droplets of milk. Not letting a single one go to waste.

Tongue tracing from the underside of your breast up to your nipple, flicking it with the tip of his tongue as you whine and squirm at the sensation, watching it leak even more into his open mouth, and down your chest, making another mess.

Repeating this agonising process for a few minutes before finding mercy in his heart to lower you down and back into the safety of his lap.

You're so mad at him you want to chew him out for behaving like that and deliberately teasing you, it's not safe to lift a pregnant person like this! You had to carry your stomach with your thighs just so it wouldn't droop, really he needs to be more responsible.

But all that comes out as you open your mouth is an obscene moan, one straight out of a cliche porno. You don't even register this lewd voice as your own for a few seconds.

While you were busy stewing over him in your brain, not only did his hand sneak under your clothes, but flick your clit as well, before his thumb rolled the bundle of nerves around, eliciting that lewd sound out of you.

You were completely drenched, and you didn't even know it. While he sucked your tit dry, you were only getting wetter and wetter down below, head in the clouds and consumed by bliss, none the wiser to your leaking, aching cunt.

Both your arms wrapped around his neck, guiding him by the nape to your full breast again, silently pleading with him while your clit was being toyed with.

Just as his mouth latched around your nipple, one of his fingers squeezed itself between your tight walls. Burying itself all the way to the knuckle, bending and pressing against your walls, before sliding almost all the way out.

Fucking in and out of you, causing more of your wetness to pour out, while your milk poured down his throat. Greedily sucking against you with feverish intensity, as if he's man starved to quench his thirst, as if he didn't just get his fill and more from your now empty sore breast.

He can't help it. Your milk is ambrosia to his senses. Its creamy taste, sweet smell, and even the mouthwatering colour of it. It drove him mad with desire.

He'd drive his finger into you whilst sucking deeply around your nipple, pulling it out just as he swallows down all the delicious liquid. A vulnerable expression painted across his soft features, eyes locked into yours. Looking up at you as if you're his whole world, his sun and moon, his sole reason for existence, the one carrying his child in your belly.

You sacrifice so much to him, indulge his every whim. How can he not appreciate all that you do? How can he not treasure you? You've let his seed alter your entire body just to grow his baby inside you, to offer him a healthy child.

Going through all of the hardships of pregnancy, of seeing your own belly bulge more and more out each day, until your favourite clothes won't fit anymore. Until you're swollen, stomach round, flesh tender and jelly-like.

Having to abandon your favourite bras as your tits grew too big to fit inside them, and too heavy for you to comfortably walk around. Going without a bra just meant ruining all your new pregnancy tops as your breast kept leaking all day long.

One time, you were just finishing cleaning the table, only to notice recent droplets of opaque liquid seemingly appearing from thin air, always returning no matter how many times you bend over the table to wipe them. Only once you passed by a mirror and glimpsed your completely drenched top did you realise the cause.

The deeper into your pregnancy months you reached, the harder and harder it became to think and function. Everything ached. Everything was sore. You are constantly wet in some shape or form. Be it your tits leaking milk in the middle of the night, or your needy cunt ruining your nice panties with silky wetness because your libido shot through the roof overnight.

It was all too much, you just needed to be taken care of.

Sitting on your husband's lap, emptying your swollen tits in his mouth as he sucked and nursed against you. Mewling out as he spreads your pussy with another finger, thumb still abusing your clit to no end.

Allowing you to completely turn off your brain, no more overthinking. Muffling the mess of hormones nagging you with absurd thoughts, driving you up the wall with the intense waves of emotions that constantly wash over you.

You're glowing. Your husband would constantly whisper against your skin, littering every inch of you in kisses, worshipping your whole body at the end of each night. Driving all the bad thoughts away and reminding you of just how radiant you are, how mesmerising your silhouette is.

He loses his track of thoughts sometimes because he stares at you a little too long and forgets what he was going to say, enraptured by your beauty and sweetness.

Minutes blur into each other, and two fingers become three. Your body sprawled across the bed, a pillow under your hips for comfort, another under your shoulders and head.

Your husband is kneeling over you, bowed legs with claw-like feet. Careful not to scratch your soft human skin.

Now properly emptied of all milk you could give, sucked dry to the last droplet. You can't help but feel proud of yourself for doing so well, proud of your body for producing so much milk, for feeding the man you love most with it so he may be strong and healthy.

The thought of your milk inside his stomach right now is so satisfying, as equally parts endearing. He must be so full and sated with your milk. Now you wonder if there was a point to the lunch you cooked after all.

Your chest feels tremendously lighter, albeit your nipples are extremely sore, puffy with a deep hue. So sensitive, even to the simple air brushing against them.

He really nursed to his heart's content.

His cock's been throbbing in the confines of his clothes. All this time, he's been neglecting it for the sake of overindulging in your body.

You might have ruined the man beyond repair, causing him an irreversible oral fixation. Licking his lips, he's still not satisfied, eyes drifting lower between your spread legs.

Lowering his body down the bed until the heat of your cunt is inches away from his face. Looking over the mess he's made out of your soaked pussy, keeping you at the edge for so long... he knows it's cruel, but can you blame him for wanting to drink your cum as well?

He was too busy with your milk. He didn't want this to go to waste. Now, he'll more than make it up to you.

Hungry mouth latching onto your clit just like he did to your nipples, nursing against the sensitive thing, swirling it with his tongue. Bringing you endless waves of pleasure, as he takes in the sounds you make, only serving to motivate him further.

Not that he did need any motivation in the first place, from the way he's lapping at your cunt without shame, groaning in delight at its taste.

His last thread of self-restraint snaps, hand moves between his own legs, practically wrestling his cock out from his pants.

You only get a glimpse from this position, but fuck, is it pretty. It's such a crime for a man to have such a pretty looking cock, even his pre-cum is a sheen rose blush tint. Sometimes. The quarians feel too unrealistic for this world, even for aliens.

And despite all of his apparent beauty, you've reduced him to a feral man, desperate to drown himself in your cunt as he fists his cock harshly. Your husband is a needy mess, tugging as his cock in frustration, smearing pre-cum over his hand.

He's so close, he's so close but he can't, he won't cum. Not without the taste of your cum down his throat, he outright refuses.

Pretty moans spilling from his lips, a vibrating undertone to them that just feels heavily against your pussy as he drives his tongue further inside you. Thumbing at your clit, kissing and making out with your wet hole, completely beyond the point of no return. Even if the world was ending he wouldn't move an inch away from your cunt.

Your moans, the sinful sounds you're making, they'll be his demise.

He needs you to cum, he's desperate.

His free hand stretches forward, gently taking hold of your round belly. That brings a hitch into your breath, he takes it as a good sign.

Soothingly rubbing circles around it, tracing the tips of his fingers alongside your stretch marks. A sensual experience that'd appear romantic and sweet to onlookers, wasn't it for the obscene sight of him eating out your pussy just down below, the shameless sounds of his moaning and sucking against your cunt, of the wetness he swallows.

You can't see his eyes with your swollen stomach in the way, left to helplessly lay there after you fed him all your milk, only to have your pussy eaten out next.

The orgasm has been building up very slowly ever since his finger first flicked your clit, simmering at low heat, gradually increasing in intensity. You're ever sure you had a mini-orgasm along the way somewhere, but you're not about to let him know.

Instead, you relish in the feeling of utter bliss this slowburn climax brings. It wasn't electrifying, nor like a bullet shooting through you.

No, it's intense like a ripple in the ocean, a wave so steady and silent as it approaches the shore. An impending pleasure that you've seen and anticipated from a mile away, less explosive with its instant gratification, and more akin to a heavy embrace, engulfing all of your being, fulfilling your every need. The kind of orgasms that leave you feeling whole afterwards, with a relaxed mellow demeanour rather than an overwhelmed spent mess.

And he gets to drink it all up, suffocate himself between your thighs as you go through the motions of climax. Leaving him both pussydrunk and milkdrunk, tugging at his leaking cock, rubbing the swollen pretty purple head. the aftertaste of your cum fresh on his tongue, while the warmth of your milk still sits in his stomach.

He's overwhelmed by your love through and through. Shiny eyes and bitten lips, he can't suppress his embarrassing cries any longer as he melts into a puddle between your thighs, burying his head into the doughy fat of your inner thigh as if it's his comfort plushie.

Stripes of adorable milky pink escape his cock, pretty lips shiny as he cums his brains out. Still fucking and grinding into his own fist. Your name at the tip of his tongue in between the choked moans, your face on his mind, your innocent human eyes, your whole angelic being is only further driving him into depravity.

He opens his tightly shut eyes.

He's alone in his room.

In the safe confines of his bed's sterile field. His environmental suit discarded outside the bubble, set on disinfecting mode.

The waves of the orgasm have passed. Slowy stroking his pulsing cock to relish in the aftermath, milking the very last droplets of rosy cum from it.

A content sigh leaves him.

He should really throw his sheets in the washer before they stain. The whole room reeks of sex... well, not that humans can really pick up on the scent of quarian cum. Last time you caught him sneaking to the laundry room in the middle of sleeping hours, ruined sheets in hand, you complimented his choice of "detergent" and said it's adorable that he prefers flowery fragrances.

Yeah... flowery fragrances. He didn't have the heart to tell you it was his spilled semen on those very same unwashed sheets you were innocently sniffing, thinking they just came fresh out of the wash cycle.

On the other hand, this really explains the uncomfortable feeling he'd get whenever passing by a human-owned flower shop on the Citadel.

He'd like to pretend that he's a better man, that his brain wasn't immediately flooded with shady ideas that take advantage of this new information, lewd at best, and immorally perverse at worst.

But he isn't a better man. He's not the gentle, thoughtful, and badass husband in his own fantasies.

He's even quite mid in his own species' terms of attractiveness. Yet you claim he is the epitome of beauty. Complimenting his galaxy-like dark skin, claiming his eyes rival the stars.

A cynical part of his mind tells him you only think that because he's the only quarian you've seen up close without an environmental suit, courtesy of your "kissing practice" days together to boost his immune system.

If you only knew what lurked underneath that delicate beauty. What degenerate thoughts brewed behind those iridescent eyes.

Sometimes, he takes advantage of your nativity, or more accurately, you let him get away with things that you wouldn't let slide for a human male.

You don't question his wandering hand; he's just a cute curious alien. You don't try to cover yourself after bumping into him while you're fresh out of the shower, even when the tantalisingly short towel you're wearing starts peeling off your body.

You can't see where his eyes are staring at from behind that helmet, the way they're completely focused on that peaking colour underneath the seam of your towel, where you have it loosely wrapped around your squished boobs, a hard nipple threatening to peak through while you're not the wiser, busy talking to him about some human work drama.

Normally, he is very invested in anything you have to say, but right now, he can't hear a single word.

You don't bat an eye when his hands immediately move to the upper edge of your towel, fingers catching the fabric before it completely gives out. His face burning a darker hue underneath his tinted helmet, trembling fingers as he fixes your towel for you, sparing your dignity.

As tempting as it was, a sight to behold that'll be etched into his brain for eternity. He really didn't want you to catch a cold. So he stepped over his own heart (and semi-hard cock) and ushered you to go dry off in your own room.

As sturdy and healthy humans have proven to be in comparison to his own kind, he still can't help but fuss over you, panic whenever you get a papercut, check on you every hour when you fall ill with a fever no matter what risk it puts him at.

He can only dream of having someone as healthy and capable as you carrying his children. Oh, how your body would nurture them. It's the perfect one for him and his seed.

You're just so capable and cool, so full of life and energy... he wants his kids to be like you. To have your milky looking human eyes, your earthly toned skin, this weird fur-thing you call hair. Even that he grew to adore with time.

Alas. Reality is calling. He will clean himself before leaving his room, finding you in the shared common room being chummy with the other aliens, because that's just how you humans are.

Your stomach is neither round nor swollen...

Your chest is the same size it's always been...

And he'll go over and say hi, like he always does. And you'll ask how his health has been faring, if there is anything you can do...

If the lessons have been helping.

And he'll answer yes with a chipper tone, voice slightly distorted by the filter of his helmet.

And the salarian and asari sitting on the opposite couch will give him that knowing side glance, because they know the truth, how much of a bullshit excuse these lessons are to make out with you.

But they'll say nothing. The asari would rather keep her trump card close to her chest until he has something she wants, and the salarian prefers to mind his own business, although he won't go through the effort of lying or if you directly asked him about the effect of the lessons.

[voyagerweek]

VOYAGER WEEK PROMPTS

DAY 1 - JAN. 10: Favorite Episode | Away Missions

DAY 2 - JAN. 11: Favorite Character | Meet You in the Runabout

DAY 3 - JAN. 12: Favorite Relationship | Allies & Enemies

DAY 4 - JAN. 13: Favorite Season or Arc | Time Travel

DAY 5 - JAN. 14: Favorite Quote | Home Away From Home

DAY 6 - JAN. 15: Favorite Holodeck Program | Lost in the Holodeck

DAY 7 - JAN. 16: Caretaker (S1E01) 30th Anniversary | FREE SPACE

Fanwork originally made and posted on Tumblr for this event with the tag #voyager week will be reblogged by this blog. Racism, bigotry, harassment, or discrimination of any kind will not be tolerated. Be respectful of other fans and have fun! FAQs ↴

How do I participate? Make a new post on Tumblr with the tag "#voyager week" during the week of January 10-16, 2025. Crossposting to other sites such as AO3 is allowed, but please also make a new post on Tumblr so this blog can reblog it. If your post has not been reblogged within 48 hours of posting, please send a DM to @voyagerweek along with the post. Submissions will only be reblogged during the event week and for up to two weeks after the event. Please do not post a submission before January 10, 2025.

Why are there two prompts for each day? Do I have to use one or both? There are two prompts to cover multiple interpretations of the event. A prompt that is accessible for a writer may not be for a gifmaker, for example. You may choose to use one or both prompts for each day, or multiple prompts from different days combined in one post, or no prompt! These prompts are being provided 5 months in advance of the event so that there is plenty of time to consider them, but if none of them inspire you, feel free to make a fanwork about Voyager that does not incorporate any of the prompts. The prompts are meant to inspire but not constrain your creativity. You may also submit multiple posts in one day. Participate as much or as little as you would like!

Can I post X kind of fanwork? Yes! If it is made by you (or you have express permission from the original creator) for this event, it counts as a fanwork and will be accepted. The following list of types of fanwork is not meant to be restrictive but to provide examples: fanfic of any length, fanart/comics, gifs/edits/fanvids, playlists, moodboards, meta discussions/essays/headcanons, crafting/textiles, cosplay, and anything else made by fans to show appreciation for Voyager. **Please put long written works below a "read more" cut**

What if my fanwork is part of an ongoing work such as a multi-chapter fanfic or series? That's fine! As long as whatever you post is new and made for this event, whether you use one of the prompts or not, it will be reblogged (i.e. you may not make a post for a previously published chapter of your fic, but a new chapter or installment posted during the event is acceptable).

Can my work include other Star Trek shows/movies/books/etc? Yes, as long as Voyager or its characters are one of the main focuses of the fanwork, you are welcome to incorporate other media properties, Star Trek or otherwise.

Can my work be about an actor or the production/behind the scenes of Voyager? Yes, as long as the work's focus is still on Voyager (i.e. not a gifset solely of the actor in another show/movie).

Are OCs (original characters) allowed? Yes, if a Voyager setting or its characters are included in the fanwork as well.

Are AUs (alternate universes) allowed? Yes. Canon divergence and different settings (i.e. modern AUs) are allowed if the work still features Voyager characters or elements.

Is NSFW/adult content allowed? Yes, as long as you tag appropriately with trigger warnings and follow Tumblr's restrictions for explicit content. Reblogs of works that contain graphic violence, sexual content, strong profanity, or nudity will be tagged #nsfw for filtering.

Threshold Day is January 29 and already a recognized fan event on Tumblr, why are you having a Voyager event that doesn't include this day? The dates were chosen to coincide with the thirtieth anniversary of the original airdate of the first episode of the first season. This event is meant to share enthusiasm for the entirety of Voyager, and hopefully that will continue after the event week is finished.

**If you have any other questions not covered by this list, please send an ask to @voyagerweek.**

[xichun-spotted]

Pinned Post?

I am the Xichun Spotter, spotter of Xichun's. This is my pinned post.

If you want to see posts about Xichun. I have them. Ideally, all of them. This blog does use a queue system.

Asks accepted. Blog run by @ratlesshonret

Tag list below.

#xichun spotted! - For when I spot a Xichun in the wild

#xichun (ishmael) spotted! - For when I spot Xichun Ishmael

#xichun mentioned! - For when someone talks about Xichun

#imported xichun - For when I crosspost a Xichun from another site

#donchun - For art of the ship variety featuring Don Quixote

#asks about xichun - For when I answer your burning questions

#xichun-spotted meta - For posts about this blog!

[runawrites-blog]

Undercover Ch. 5 (Connor x Reader)

Summary: There is another break-in and with three of your neighbours missing, you and Connor go to look for them. All the while, the boundaries between you two begin to blur as you get closer and closer. (Female Reader) Warnings: Chapter 5/10. No Y/N. Petnames (Love, Sweetheart). Break-Ins. Blood. Detective Reader. Crossposted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62247359/chapters/159245283#workskin Previous Chapter

---

The AP700 model was widespread and diverse, coming in all different appearances. Before the revolution, Connor would have been able to find the specific android by their model and serial number. After androids had gained their freedom as well as human rights, databases nationwide had been wiped clean of these numbers and the only androids whose serial numbers remained there were ones that had committed crimes. This made it difficult beyond belief to find the culprit.

While everyone back at the DPD had checked their data basis for AP700 models, none of the ones there had even been in state or released from custody at the time of the murders. Fowler had made the call to have AP700 models come in to give their serial numbers as well as blood samples but since the request had been voluntary not all of them had shown up to do so. And of the ones that had shown up, none matched the blood found at the Jefferson’s house.

Despite these new developments in the case you and Connor had been asked to keep up your guise and try to find more evidence on site. But strangely enough, you didn’t mind in the least and with things calming down after the break-in at the Jefferson’s, no doubt because of the culprit noticing that the police were closing in on them, you had started to question these feelings.

You and Connor had always been close but during your time undercover you had grown closer than ever, easily falling into the role of a married couple. Boundaries between the two of you had blurred, from how much you touched each other over sharing a bed even when no one would see to even changing in front of each other. And they just kept on blurring which made it hard for you to exactly pinpoint what you were feeling, whether or not your feelings for him went beyond those of friendship.

Now as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, spreading your bubbly facewash all over your skin you took a moment to breathe, to try and sort through your feelings. You really suspected that you had fallen for Connor but you were still too scared to admit it to yourself, though this was getting harder by the day with how sweet and loving he acted toward you.

Your thoughts were interrupted when Connor walked into the bathroom, not even knocking on the door which was another boundary that had blurred for the two of you. He smiled at you in the mirror and went to grab the hairbrush lying on the counter. But when you didn’t immediately smile back he stopped.

“Are you quite alright?”

“I’ve just been thinking.” You said and leaned over to splash water in your face, pausing once to speak up again. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Connor asked and when you looked back up he had a towel at the ready, reaching out to gently dab your face dry. “You looked really concerned, almost scared.”

You let him dry your face before taking the towel and holding it tightly in your hands, deciding not to tell him about your feelings and opting to instead talk about what else worried you. “We haven’t made any more progress in the case since we found the blood four days ago.”

“The culprit knows we’re after them.” Connor said softly, reaching out to give your hand a tight squeeze. “They’re probably scared of being caught and trying to lay low. But I’m sure that we’ll find new information soon.”

“Are you sure?”

“Riley’s birthday party is tomorrow. Maybe we can try to subtly question the people there.” Connor suggested before grabbing the hairbrush and brushing his hair out. “You’re a good detective and I’d like to think that I am, too. I’m sure we will find new information soon.”

You turned to him in surprise, gently shoving at his shoulder. “Don’t say that, Con! You’re an amazing detective. Pat yourself on the shoulder every now and then.”

“Pat myself on the shoulder?” Connor asked in confusion, reaching out to do just that before he stopped. “Oh, you mean metaphorically?”

“Yes, obviously.” You chuckled and shook your head in amusement. “You’re adorable.”

Once more, a faint blue blush spread over Connor’s face and he shook his head almost sheepishly. “Thank you. That’s so sweet of you to say.”

“I’m a good wife, aren’t I?”

“You really do make a good wife, yes.” Connor sighed softly before he cleared his throat, only now realising how dreamy his voice had sounded. “Should we head to bed? We still have to buy a present for Riley tomorrow.”

“We should.”

---

But in the early hours of the morning, the two of you were awoken by your cellphone ringing and you realised that you’d forgotten to silence it. You sat up and fumbled for the phone in the dark as Connor rose from stasis, quietly inquiring if you were alright, sounding concerned. Had you not been so frantic to get to your phone in time you would have taken notice of Connor withdrawing his arm from where he had tightly wrapped it around your body in his sleep. By the time you’d gotten the phone it had stopped ringing and you unlocked it to check who had called you.

Connor inched closer until his chest was pressed against your side and he could see your screen from over your shoulder. “Why did Rose call you this late?”

“I’ll call her back to see if she’s alright.” You said, typing around on your phone to do so. “She was over at Matt and Caleb’s today. I hope nothing bad happened to any of them.”

When she picked up, mere seconds later and talking in a panicked voice, you realised something was terribly wrong. You quickly put her on speaker as Connor leaned over you to stare at the screen in shock. But neither of you could understand a word she was saying other than her fiancé’s name because she was crying and rambling and panicking too much.

“Rose, you need to calm down so we can understand what you’re saying.” Connor instructed, his voice firm but calm. “What happened to Steven?”

“Stacy called us twenty-- twenty minutes or so ago and said she heard a commotion from her garden. She said Riley wanted to check it out but she didn’t-- she didn’t want to go alone.” Rose was trying hard not to cry and you could hear it in her voice. “Steve went over to check it out with Riley but-- but he hasn’t come back in twenty minutes and none of them are picking up their phones and I’m too scared to check on my own and--”

Connor interrupted her again. “I’m heading over to check on them.”

“We both are.”

“Love, is that a good idea?”

“I am not letting you go alone.”

“Then I’ll come, too.” Rose said quietly, tears evident in her voice. “I’ll wait in my driveway, alright?”

“We’ll meet you there!”

The two of you quickly got out of bed, put on shoes and hurried downstairs. It wasn’t cold outside but the wind that was blowing made you shiver as you followed Connor over to Rose and Steve’s house. She stood in her driveway as announced and when she saw you she quickly hurried over to embrace you, clearly shaken up by what had happened. Connor was at her side in an instant, placing a hand on her arm and looking at her in concern.

“What exactly happened?”

“As I said Stacy called us over thirty minutes ago and said she heard a commotion from her garden.” Rose still seemed close to tears but she was much calmer now that you and Connor were with her. “Steve hasn’t come back in almost thirty minutes now and neither he, nor Riley or Stacy are picking up their phones.”

“I will go and check on Riley, Steve and Stacy. You two wait here.”

“Connor, you can’t go alone.” You grabbed his arm to keep him with you. “That is way too dangerous.”

“I can’t have you be in danger, Love.”

“Let me come with you. I can help you. You know that I can, Connor.”

For a second Connor hesitated but then he nodded and looked back at Rose. “Go inside and lock the doors. We will check on everyone else and then we will call you. If anything happens, you have my wife’s number. Call her and she will pick up.”

“Are you sure?” Rose asked, clutching her phone to her chest. “Isn’t it too dangerous to go after them?”

“Rose, we will be fine, I promise.” You said softly, giving her a promising smile. “Call me if anything happens, alright? I will keep my phone on vibrate.”

She nodded and then headed off, leaving you and Connor to head across the street and toward the house next to Riley and Stacy’s. When you got there you found the front door open and carefully stepped inside, making sure to cover every inch of the entrance hall as you checked to see if anyone was there.

“Is anyone there?”

Upstairs, you heard someone break into a sprint and Connor nodded toward the stairs, signaling for you to stay behind him. He went up the stairs, looking forward while you followed him with your back pressed to his, walking backwards, making sure no one could surprise you. Once upstairs, you two made sure no one was around in the hallway before Connor leaned his head back to get his mouth as close to your ear as possible while still keeping his eyes turned to the front.

“It came from the bedroom.” He whispered so quietly you could barely hear him. “We’ll keep going like this, with me leading and you making sure no one surprises us.”

“I got your back.”

He nodded and moved toward the bedroom door where he quietly counted to three before kicking it open and scanning the room to see if anyone was inside. “No one is here.”

“They left.” You rounded him and closed the door behind you so no one could follow the two of you before your eyes fell on the open window, its glass broken. Carefully, you approached and peered outside. “They must have smashed it to come inside but left when they heard us downstairs. I can’t see anyone outside. Can you?”

Connor moved in next to you, looking out into the backyard as well before shaking his head. “No, I can’t see anyone.”

“Let’s see if they left anything behind.” You said and pulled out your phone to turn on the flashlight, shining it around to see if there was anything around. “There’s blood on one of the shards of glass.”

Next to you, Connor crouched down, gathering some of the blood on his fingers and licking it off to scan it, LED blinking yellow as he did so. “You might have gathered that this is human blood by the colour but my analysis also shows that the blood type is A negative. I suspect it might be the blood of the accomplice but it might also be Riley’s blood.”

“If it is the accomplice’s blood we might be able to find them if their DNA is already in our systems.” You mused, crouching down next to Connor and inspecting the shard of glass. “We’ll have to call the police so they can check.”

“Let’s get out of here and call them. I can message Hank to let him know there is some blood that needs to be sampled immediately.”

That’s when your phone rang and you quickly straightened up again, Connor following swiftly as you checked who was calling you. When you saw that it was Rose you quickly picked up the phone, Connor looking over your shoulder to see the screen.

“Are you alright, Rose?”

“Where are you two? Are you alright? Steve, Riley and Stacy just showed up at my house. They’re fine and have already called the police.” She explained quickly, panic written all over her face. “Where are you two?”

“We are at their house but the intruder has left through the bedroom window.” Connor explained, trying to sound reassuring. “We’ll come over to your place now.”

“Be careful!”

“We’ll be over in five minutes.”

---

When you made it outside you were greeted by the police who had already arrived, Tina and Gavin once more amongst them. In the background, you saw your neighbours being questioned by other officers while Tina and Gavin approached the two of you. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to shield your skin from the cold wind while they asked you standard questions until they were sure no one was in earshot anymore.

“Connor texted us that you found human blood upstairs.” Tina recounted, looking at her data pad. “It very likely belongs to one of the culprits. It might belong to the human living in this house but the fact that it was on the shards from the smashed window indicates that it belongs to one of the culprits.”

“That means the accomplice is a human.” Connor said before his eyes drifted to you, taking in how you were shivering. “Are you cold?”

“Yes, the wind is pretty cold.”

In one swift motion, Connor took off his sweater, leaving him in nothing but his pyjama pants and a t-shirt, to quickly hand it to you. For a second you wanted to protest but his look was so insistent that you quickly slipped it on, a small smile gracing your features until it disappeared when you saw Gavin’s amused expression.

“How romantic.”

“Stop it.” Connor chastised him, hands coming up to rub your arms gently, trying to warm you up. “Should I let her freeze out here?”

“I’m just saying that you’re being awfully romantic.”

“I have to second that.” Tina said in amusement. “This is straight out of a romance novel, I must say.”

Despite the warmth spreading in your chest you rolled your eyes. “You two are really terrible, you know?”

“We know.” Gavin grinned before steeling his expression again. “Is there anything else we should know?”

“Normally, the android is the one that enters the homes while the human waits outside. Today the human went inside the home. I’m sure there’s a reason for that.” Connor added, hands still rubbing your arms gently. “But that is all we have to add.”

“But tomorrow, we are invited to a birthday celebration of one of the people living here and we’ll try to subtly investigate there.”

“Good plan.” Tina nodded along to your words before giving you a small smile. “Are you two alright? We’ll have to go back to the station now and our shifts are over soon but if anything happens, someone will always be there to help.”

“Thank you, Tina.” You smiled gently at her before leaning back into Connor. “We’re fine. You two enjoy your free time when your shifts are over.”

“Keep us updated tomorrow.”

[marymary-diva17]

Growing pains

another crossposting with some changes as well I hope you all enjoy.

Growing up was hard when being a young teenage navi girl and that was the story of lani life right now, she was happy a few months ago with her boyfriend Tsyerio but that soon came to end two day ago when he dumped her. Soon everything else started going down a spiral of doom for lani when she decided to be friends with tsyerio after their breakup nothing was going well for her. She wanted answers for why tsyerio had dumped her and asked her older brother and sister for help but even they wouldn't give her a solid reason for the breakup. Lani thought it was because of her reputation of always getting in trouble, for stuff she didn't do and tried to better herself as student and daughter. She was dealing with on going bullying and finally decide to stand up fro herself which lead to a fight with her bullies and her siting in the principal office. 

Principal " lani sully I'm highly disappointed in news that I have heard today about what had unfolded between you and some other kids” 

Lani " sir I’m sorry I …..” 

Principal " lani will you please explain your side as all blame seems to be going to you … and I need answers to slow whatever is happening” 

Lani “ sir I didn’t I don’t know” 

Conserlor “ young lady it seems like after you breakup with tsireyo and before that the bullying has become hard for you and school as well” 

Lani “ I been doing my best but I don’t know everything has become hard for me lately” there was soon a knocked at the door gaining everyone attention, as they looked as the door opened showing Jake and neytiri. 

Jake " sir we are sorry for the trouble our daughter has caused" 

Neytiri " we will make sure she says sorry for everyone she hurt" 

Principal " mr and mrs sully your daughter was telling me what has unfolded today leading to this situation that had gained everyone attention lani will you tell us more” 

Lani " yes sir this has been happing for a while now and it seems to have gone overboard I had been pushed to my limits, I had to defend myself”  

Jake " you decide to cause a fight I thought I raised you better then that but it seems like I failed that in the end” 

Principal " lani is free to go her grades will not be effected, as it seems like she taken all the remaining tests and assignments as well ... we will be taken a deeper look into this for everyone sake” the sully parents had nodded their heads and soon had taken lani home. Neither Jake or neytiri would look at their daughter or speak with her

Jake " go to your room and stay there dinner will be sent up I can't look at you right now" 

Lani " dad please ...." 

Jake " no you lost all chance to call me dad a long time ago young lady ...no wonder Tsyerio broke up with you" 

Lani " sir...." 

Jake " you are to immature, stubborn, and you cant act you age ... maybe if you change everything will be better why can’t you be like your older siblings for once you in your … dont be someone we have to be shameful of lani I will be speaking with your mother down her to find out a solution for the family” 

Neytiri " just go lani you have done enough pray to eywa for some help" lani didn't say anything else and left for her room as her parents were deciding her faith lani had tears running down her face, she had grabbed the phone and texted Tsyerio. 

Text 

Lani " please tsyerio I need you help or someone to talk to ... I know we end on bad terms but I thought we can still be friends" 

Lani " I'm sorry for whatever I did but pelage tell me what I had done" lani was about to send about text message hoping to make peace when she realizes she had been blocked by Tsyerio by text and social media as well. 

Aonung " lani I'm going to tell you this once but stay away from my brother and family I'm sorry tsyeio broke up with you like that, you are good girl and everything but you need to leave him alone ... we are all tried of seeing you trying to win him back and be friends you need to know and see it over for good" 

Lani " aonung" 

Anon " just stop it please you are making us all go mad and we are disappointed by your actions today I thought you were a better girl then that, but it seems like I was wrong you have disappoint everyone lani" 

Lani " ........" 

Aonung " until you can get yourself and your problems under control it will be the best you stay away from us for while" 

End of text 

Lani " what" lani had soon realized mostly everyone she knew either blocked her or muted her now she was truly alone even when her sibling got home they wouldn't talk with her. She was so alone now, during her suspension Jake wouldn't look or speak with her when she was home. Once her punishment end she was still grounded with her family being so close with Tonowari family, she was not allowed to attend import events and was left with her grandmother. Lani was left home alone this time as her grandmother had gone with everyone else, lani was on her phone when  she came across this very popular video. 

Lani " huh I wonder what this has to say maybe I should watch, it will be fun to try one of these test " lani had watched the video and soon clicked the link leading to the test and took it rights away. She was now waiting for the test results to come, back to her. 

Test " lani your result are : kindhearted, adventures, funny, rebel, calm, misunderstood, and talented is all make up you and many more and you can fit in with any crowd and welcome everyone" 

Lani " wow that sound like fun .... Well maybe everyone right maybe it time to approve my life but the life I want the dream I have dream and goals I wish" two more hours had gone by and there was soon a knock at the door.

neteyam " hey"

lani " hey"

neteyam " ....."

lani " are you disappointed in me as well like everyone else or half of everyone else"

neteyam " I still love you sis but it seems like mom and dad had called a family meeting"

lani " coming" the two siblings had made their way downstairs where everyone was waiting for them.

Jake " good you brought you sister now have a sit as we need to talk about today" the pair of teens had soon sat down and got ready to start this family meeting.

Jake " after today situation with lani it has greatly effected our family and clan, as what happened today should of never happened at all"

kiri " dad where is this leading"

neytiri " I and your father have talked this over today and some other time, we have spoke with your grandmother she she said it will be good for lani to come stay with her"

lani "so I'm going to stay with grandmother"

Jake "yes and maybe your time with her can change you for the better, as we can't deal with this anymore young lady as what has happened today caused enough damage to us all"

y/n " sir ..."

Jake " there no fighting about it young lady you are going and staying with mo'at until you come home. and then we can deal with you going back to school later on"

neteyam " she will be away for four weeks right"

Jake " the school year will be ending as you will be finished the rest online, as it seems and you will be spending the summer with your grandmother"

lani " yes sir"

Jake " when you are away you will leave tisreyo and his brothers alone, I don't want to hear about you texting or calling them when you are gone"

lani " yes sir"

neytiri " we will allow your siblings to have come contact with you when we think it will be for the best same things goes for spider under norm and tsutey orders, you will always write letters of sorry to everyone involve"

lani " yes ma'am"

Jake " You will leave that the end of this weekend I and your mom will take you there, you will need to pack as you will be gone for some time"

lani " what if something else happens dad what if the school doesn't let me come back or something else"

Jake " we will have to talk about that kids if that comes because after today, everything will never be the same"

lani " yes sir" the family had dinner but it was not a happy dinner, mostly a very neutral dinner. That night lani did cry a bit as well tears of sadness and some angry as well, she couldn't believe her parents will not fight for her but she was a bad child to them as well and everyone else. She knew her grandmother understood her maybe this time away will be good for lani. Lani had been able to sleep that night but she was still upset about everything. her weekend was not the better as well she packed her suitcases to be gone for a very long time.

lani " all packed"

Jake " good we will be leaving for the airport now say goodbye to everyone, I will bring your stuff to the car" lani had nodded her head as she had hugged her siblings goodbye, they seem to be upset about the whole situation. Everyone knew fighting about it will not end well, lani was soon taken to the airport.

Jake " here is your ticket and your grandmother will be waiting for you when you arrive"

lani " yes sir"

neytiri " you have enough money to get yourself lunch in airport right"

lani " yes ma'am"

Jake " good your grandmother will call us when you arrive and she pick you up, maybe we can talk for a while"

lano " yes sir"

Jake " please behavior for you grandmother lani"

lani " yes sir"

Jake " this is where we have to leave you lani" lani had nodded her head as her parents soon left the airport, as she made her away through security and to her gate after her bags were checked in. She had gotten some food and soda as she sat by her gate waiting for her plane to come, as she ate her food. She had made the mistake of looking at old photos of the past, and then on social media. she was going to message the group chat but stopped herself, maybe she need to give them time and herself time to see what will happen in the future. After a while the plane soon came and lani got on the plane as, it soon took off to where her grandmother lived and where her new journey will be starting as well.

lani " the test was right after all maybe this new journey will be good for me in the end" after some many hours or traveling and changing planes, she soon arrived at where she will be staying her getting her bags.

????? " lani"

lani " hey grandmother" the pair looked at each other mo'at soon hugged the girl, knowing everything that had happened but she was happy to see her.

mo'at " come on lets get you home we can have a talk there"

lani " yes ma'am and maybe this will be best in the end for me after all changing is good"

mo'at " yes it but I'm here as well for help when you need it" the pair had soon left the airport after they had everything, making a call to the sully family as the drove to mo'at home. As lani was thinking about all the things she had been told and done, she was going to have the time of changing when she was away from home dealing with the growing pains that will soon lead her to the person she will become in the future.

[aquarterpastfour]

the reprogramming of an expendable asset [4/7]

Crossposted: AO3, ff.net

Fandom: Star Trek Voyager

Event: Voyager Week, Day 4 Prompt: Time Travel

Summary: Seska goes undercover for Admiral Janeway

Asset remains unwaveringly loyal to the cause and considers death an acceptable outcome.

Their odds were worse than a dabo game rigged in favor of the house. Seska would laugh, if it wasn’t completely absurd that she was about to be phaser-canon blasted into the pre-warp age by her own people.

A lesser agent would try to find a way to indicate to the Glinn and his troopers that they were firing on an undercover Cardassian. A lesser agent would have washed out of training and tainted their future children with the mark of weakness.

Seska had graduated with highly classified distinction, thank you very much.

She fired at four troopers blocking their exit from the depot. One went down with a severe phaser burn to his abdomen, another dropped when she caught him with a beam to the face. The first would live, if he received proper medical care quickly; the latter was probably dead already.

“Six more incoming,” Torres slid behind the cargo crate beside her, looking unseeingly at the corpse of Rolans, who just seconds ago had perished at the end of a phase-disrupter blast.

Rolans should have kept his head down.

Seska fired another volley before ducking low, “How did they know we’d be here?”

The question was sincere. She hadn’t been able to meet with Holtat in four weeks.

The half-Klingon was out of breath, but formidable, firing shots in between trying to rig a site-to-site back to the Val Jean. Without looking up from either task, she did her best to hypothesize.

“My bet is the Federation. Ayala thinks they’ve found a way to track cell movements. Then they let the Cardassians do their dirty work for them.”

Most likely.

The Federation excelled at pretending it was above the moral failings of non-member species, whatever morality meant to them, but it was just another organization made up of arrogant men and women at the end of the day. One where someone wearing admiral pips could easily justify letting their once-enemy pacify terrorist cells.

“Ghuy’,” B’Elanna swore, slapping the transceiver she was trying to siphon power from.

“What do you need?” Seska demanded, monitoring a gap in the Cardassian offensive created by Ayala and Tuvok. This was a munitions depot, one the Cardassians were meant to leave unguarded (what a joke), but it should have something Torres could work her magic with.

“A miracle.”

“Come on B, give me a request I can actually work with.”

There was a glint in the engineer’s eyes. True fear, the kind that Torres liked to pretend she never felt but would sometimes share with Seska. When she needed Seska’s bravado to see them both through.

“Anything with power.”

Seska cast her eyes around and spotted an active terminal ten meters away. It wouldn’t have a lot of juice, but it might just be enough.

“That, I can do. Cover me.”

Running, half bent over while dodging phase-disrupter rifle fire was a skill hard earned, and Seska excelled at it. Twice, a pulse passed too close to her head for comfort — once it seared the skin of her ear — but she was able to duck behind the terminal and begin prying into its guts.

“You’re going to owe me one,” she muttered darkly, just before doing the dumbest thing she possibly could.

The thing about Cardassian engineers was that they never thought through safety guidelines the way the Federation’s did. If time with the Maquis had opened her eyes to anything, it was that her people could learn a thing or two about the safety life cycle of systems.

All of which meant that Torres�� power relay was going to come at a cost.

Seska bit the inside of her cheek and ignored the smell of burning flesh as she pried it loose.

End Game

Federation parties made her itch. A mandated counselor had told her once that it was a physiological response to being surrounded by people she thought were better than her. Seska thought that the man didn’t know how the Cardassian mind worked. It was clearly a physiological response to being surrounded by people that had or would look at her and decide if she had redeemed herself enough to be included in polite company.

That they thought this was their right — no, their moral obligation — would call her to violence if she was still a relic of the bygone era of imperial political thought that had defined her people.

She wasn’t. Over twenty years on Voyager had changed her, enough to see the error of her old ways.

Thinking of the shame gave her indigestion, which in turned annoyed her. She was still Seska, after all. Compared to the average Starfleet officer, she had the moral depth and clarity of a puddle of mud in a desert.

“Your wife is too young,” while the woman in question went off to mingle with the Wildmans, Seska took the opportunity to pick on the Doctor.

The alternative would be to insult Paris, but there was no fun picking on a man whose life had soured.

Besides, the hologram liked her well enough to take the jab for what it was, a plea for momentary distraction from the other party goers.

“Technically, I’m only in my thirties,” he smiled at her in greeting and handed her a flute of champagne.

“Has she even graduated college yet?”

“Graduate school, in fact. A PhD in cultural xenogeography. She’s on faculty at Oxford,” he was almost laughing at her now, silently challenging her to do better.

Seska realized she was scowling and threw back the entire glass. To hell with waiting for a toast. The dead weren’t going to be deax for long, and the living didn’t need their egos stroked.

He clinked his own glass against hers and followed suit, “Not bad for a piece of dung who refused to change himself, hmm?”

“Stop bragging, before I find a way to shave another inch of your height.”

“Another?” this time he did laugh.

Then, after savoring the fine vintage of a second glass of champagne, the Doctor decided their once a year tête-à-tête was over, “The Admiral is looking for you.”

“Better let her find me, then,” Seska ignored the attendant walking by with a tray to collect cast offs and pushed her empty crystal back into the Doctor’s free hand.

She smirked when he huffed at her retreating back, but the expression melted off her face when she spotted Harry. Despite being ten years younger than her, he didn’t look it. Time in the captain’s chair had grayed him — it had added a few more wrinkles too.

He nodded at her as he moved away from the friendly grasp of the woman she was looking for.

“Admiral,” she greeted.

Once, Janeway had asked Seska to call her Kathryn. That had been years ago, when they were nearing the end of their return to the Alpha Quadrant, back when Seska was one left who regularly challenged her.

Seska had never complied. They weren’t peers. Admiral had none when she was the Captain, and she certainly didn’t have any now. The only candidate had long ago started scribbling demented conspiracies on his room walls.

“Seska, I’m glad you could make it,” Janeway did look happy to see her. Perhaps it was due to genuine — hard won — fondness. More likely it was because she expected to receive good news.

Well, who could say no to that?

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Seska’s tone implied the opposite, but Janeway laughed and guided her to a loud corner with a gentle hand on her arm.

“It’s done,” Seska muttered, faux smile on her face as the Admiral regaled her with stories of the latest generation of brats the crew and their children had popped out. As always, no one was looking, but someone was watching.

Despite the overlap in their talking, Janeway heard exactly what Seska meant her to. The chrono deflector was hers, courtesy of a Cardassian once again taking on the facial ridges of another species.

Klingon this time. Which had been about as fun as interrogation resistance training. Remember the teeth alone was enough to make Seska shudder.

At least this time it had only been for eight months.

When the Admiral had asked her to steal the device, she didn’t say what it was for. Seska wasn’t an idiot. She knew what it looked like to drown in regret and self-blame, and what it would take to make it all go away. Janeway planned to risk her life on some pipe dream of changing the past

Good riddance.

Maybe this time she would get Voyager home with her pet drone — with Torres — alive.

If that meant Seska disappeared in a puff of timeline collapse or spent the rest of her life in a Federation penal colony, then so be it. At least then she might be able to say she’d settled her debts with the woman who’d let her choose the better path.

[skolomorphic]

Hey! I haven't read your story (yet!! I'm not really into transmigration stories but I wanna give it a shot) but I wanted to say you're really inspirational! I'm an artist who's interested in posting a webnovel with some bonus art, but I was unsure where to post and if there's an audience for it. So just, seeing you doing this makes me happy and motivates me to write.

hey thank you! i hope the inspiration continues to flow. :)

most people publishing webnovels or original fiction in the eng-speaking circles of the internet will do so on royalroad, scribblehub, ao3, wattpad, or some other platform. i'm a bit unusual in that i've only published on a personal website so far -- i haven't crossposted on other popular platforms.

RR has a lot of webnovel / litrpg / isekai enthusiasts; the others, i'm not too sure how they usually fare for original works. i've seen people talk about gaining audiences by doing review swaps, joining web rings, engaging with the forums on their host site of choice, and so on.

at some point, to grow my audience, i will probably have to do the same thing too... but right now i'd prefer a small & regular community of readers over having a widely known story on another platform. i have this problem where i loooove going back and making minor edits, so having too many places to cross-post is sort of a headache for me.

right now, i only have to worry about two places -- my writing software, and my github repo. the github repo has been set up to automatically roll out my updates to both neocities and github books, which is super useful for not having to manually edit both places at once.

i don't anticipate that "proof of existence" will be everyone's cup of tea, but if you give it a shot, i hope you enjoy! and if not, i will probably be putting up other original works in different genres as well.

good luck with your projects and hope to hear back from you soon!

[taomyou]

The Romance of Reimbursements - Chapter 2

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader Status: COMPLETED Summary: There’s a guy you see every Friday on bus 143, and you think he’s pretty hot. It wouldn't hurt to tell your best friend about him, would it? or, you and Levi take the same bus home from work every Friday, and you fall in love slowly, clumsily, and with all the time in the world to fold as many paper stars as your heart desires. Word Count: 6.3k Tags: slow burn, friends to lovers, modern au, office au, fluff, romance, meet-cute, matchmaking

(A/N: this fic is already completed and entirely available on ao3 here if you would like to read it. i am currently in the process of crossposting everything to tumblr, so please be patient!)

Chapter Navigation Accompanying Playlist

next time

That Friday, you do end up finishing those cookies for Hange.

After they were finished going off about the dinner they were dragging you to "no matter what," the two of you moved back over to the kitchen to roll out dough balls, cover them in cinnamon sugar, and shove them in the oven.

You both eased back into conversation about anything and everything, bar the guy from the bus, and things were smooth sailing for the rest of the day Hange spent at your place. After you were finished with business in the kitchen, Hange went back to their apartment to quickly grab some of last night's leftovers for the two of you to share as dinner, and you both decided to lay on the couch again to eat and watch random Shark Tank episodes on some probably illegal streaming site Hange found.

You swore they were uploaded to an official website somewhere, but they insisted that those episodes were probably really boring if they were free to watch. No matter, it was a great deal of fun even if neither of you really understood any of the entrepreneurial jargon they used on the show.

After you and Hange got tired of complaining for the hundredth time that none of the contestants would choose Lori as their investor, you sent Hange off with a smile, a hug, and a tupperware container of the snickerdoodle cookies. You had brought up teaching them the recipe so they could make it without you, but just like with every other recipe you tried teaching them, Hange insisted that coming over to your kitchen to bake with you was far more fun than doing it alone.

On the way out the door, Hange told you they'd text you the time and other important details once they got home, and, just like that, you were alone to stew in your thoughts again.

You dragged yourself to your bathroom, not having had a moment to change into your home clothes yet, and stripped yourself down to hop in the shower. The joyful expression that was on your face when you hugged Hange goodbye fell from your face and became replaced with a tight-lipped smile. You leaned down to turn the faucet on, tugged on the pullup knob, and let the water rain down on you.

Somehow, you missed the name Hange said belonged to him. Well, not somehow. You knew you weren't listening when they were rambling earlier, but you wished you had asked Hange at some point to put a name to a face. They had to have known you weren't listening, and you're sure they wouldn't have been offended if you did ask, but you didn't want to bring him up again for fear of them veering the conversation back to him.

Squeezing some shampoo into your hands, you rub them together to lather it up and bring them up to massage into your hair.

Oh well. No use really worrying about it now. You just needed to get through one dinner: how hard could it be?

✰

Okay, maybe you should've worried about this earlier.

Currently, you're standing in front of two outfits laid out on your bed. On the left is a nice black dress and a white coat, and on the right is a turtleneck, dress pants, and brown overcoat combo. You have another hour before you have to go, but here you are, trying to figure out what to wear to a dinner with who you thought to be the most beautiful man to set foot on this Earth.

You've been stood in front of your bed for a good 20 minutes already.

What were you even doing? Fussing over a man was one thing, but now you're acting like you're trying to dress yourself for a second grade class field trip to the zoo.

Actually, you wouldn't be wearing anything nearly as fancy to the zoo, but you get the point.

You're a grown, twenty-seven year old woman. You're an attorney, goddammit. You should be fine handling a measly dinner arrangement with someone you just happened to find absolutely gorgeous.

It's not like it'd be just the two of you either. Hange explained over text on Saturday that the "we" in "we're having dinner on Sunday" consisted of some of the people in their friend group, one of whom was your mystery bus stranger. They never really described any of their friends before in great detail, just assigning them nicknames so they could tell you stories about them from time to time.

You especially liked the ones about Shorty, a grumpy man Hange described as having a "perpetual stick up his ass."

He seemed like someone you'd want to be friends with, despite the obvious contrast his personality seemed to have to yours. Hange would talk sometimes about how much of a pain it was to hang out with him because he'd always complain about their driving or how sweet the tea he'd ordered was. Other times, they'd retell you his stupid jokes and let you laugh into the palm of your hand at how painfully sarcastic he seemed to be.

The only time you were ever tempted to actually come along with Hange and their friends was when they invited you to his birthday party (which was apparently disguised as a Christmas party, for whatever reason) a few years ago, but you already had a vacation back to your hometown planned that year.

Hopefully, Shorty's there at dinner. Maybe his presence would give you something to focus on instead of the handsome stranger Hange apparently knew and was going to bring with them.

Shaking your head to get out of your thoughts and back to the task at hand, you grab your phone from your shorts pocket to text Hange to ask what to wear. You get your answer seconds later when they reply, telling you to wear a dress.

"Dress it is, I guess," you mumble to yourself, grabbing the dress from your bed to change into it, as well as a pair of fleece-lined tights and safety shorts from your cabinet to help fight against the cold. Thank goodness you did your makeup before figuring out your outfit so you wouldn't have to rush that on your way out the door.

After putting on the dress and other garments, you head over to the bathroom with a small box of your accessories to use your mirror to put them on. It was convenient to have worn the dress, you decide, since choosing your jewelry would be easier than it would be if you wore the other outfit. After taking a quick look at all the trinkets you have in the box, you decide on a nice necklace with a single pearl pendant, purple wisteria drop earrings, and a decently large satin bow for your hair.

You take a good step away from your mirror to see how everything looks all put together, and you decide that you look... pretty. You hadn't really had the chance to dress up recently, and it was a nice change to be able to style yourself how you wanted. Of course, you had to look good at work, but it's not like you actually liked wearing pantsuits and heels all the time. Come to think of it, the last time you remember feeling so pretty was that first Friday, months back, when you first saw that stranger.

After checking your phone to see you had another 30-ish minutes to get to the restaurant, you shove your phone, wallet, and keys into your purse. Slipping on a pair of black flats, you make your way out the door and put on your coat as you walk downstairs to your car. Hange already left their apartment earlier in the morning, so they weren't able to carpool with you over to the restaurant, but they promised they'd be there a bit earlier than the scheduled meet-up time to make sure you'd have company while you waited. Somehow, you doubt that.

And you were right to doubt Hange's early appearance. When you get inside the restaurant, you see no sign of them anywhere. You take a quick glance at your phone to see that there's 10 minutes before the scheduled time everyone's supposed to arrive. The waiting area is quite large, but everyone looks already occupied with their own group, so you can't guess who is or isn't a part of Hange's circle.

To your surprise, you hear a familiar voice say your name behind you, and you turn around to see... Erwin?

"Erwin? What're you doing here?"

He seems almost as confused as you are to see him, especially since the two of you have never bumped into each other outside of work before, but he still answers nonetheless. "I'm meeting for dinner with some friends. I wasn't sure if it was you, but thank goodness it is and I don't have to make a fool out of myself greeting a complete stranger."

You nod in understanding, feeling a bit awkward seeing your work superior outside of... well, work. He's dressed in the same clothes he wore to the office, more or less, though, so you'll get over the initial shock soon enough.

He clears his throat, bringing attention back onto himself. "What brings you here tonight, if you don't mind me asking?"

You nervously laugh at his question, bringing up a finger to tap your cheek in embarrassment. "My friend's introducing me to a couple of their friends, which is quite a long time coming since I've gotten away with not meeting them for as long as I have. One of them is apparently this guy I've seen on the bus before though, so that should be fun," you answer, and despite the blistering cold blowing into the waiting area from the constantly swinging entrance doors, you can feel your face start to heat up like it always does when you think of him.

Erwin quirks an eyebrow at your answer, but before he can say anything, you hear Hange plowing into the space.

In tow is... oh, it really is him.

A large part of you, prior to this exact moment, wanted Hange to be wrong about knowing the stranger you told them about.

Some other part of you wanted it to be true, though.

He looks just as good as he did 2 days ago when you last saw him, maybe even more so now that you're under the extravagant lighting of the restaurant.

His suit's grey, just like his eyes, and it seems like he did his hair differently—maybe it's slicked back now, you can't tell from where you are in the room. You just barely take note of his height, which you never noticed before since you were too nervous to really look at him walk off the bus, but you jest that making him short was the universe's way of trying to make him "unattractive." As if that would even be possible; the man looks like he's topped the list of TC Chandler's Top 100 Faces every year since birth.

Even with the distance, however, there's no denying that that's him. The guy you see every Friday on bus 143 is across the room from you, standing underneath the same chandeliers you are.

The two of you accidentally make eye contact, and you think you're about to faint. Let's hope the host can seat you at one of those comically long tables so nobody can see the blush blooming on your face once again.

Hange skips over to you, giving you a hug and breaking you out of your momentary trance. Once you realize what's going on, you hug them back in earnest and give them a bashful smile. They most definitely take notice of your red face after leaning back a bit to get a good look at your face and pinching your cheek playfully, but they don't make any comment about it.

"You, hey, you! You look so cute!" They coo, refusing to let go of you. You awkwardly laugh, seeing Erwin over Hange's shoulder. If you thought he looked confused earlier, he looks completely and utterly taken aback now.

Hange pulls away from you and stands proudly between you and Erwin, that same shit-eating grin from Friday bright on their face once again. They motion for the other raven-haired man to come over, which he does with a quiet frown on his face. Somehow, even that gets you just a bit more red in the face.

"Levi! Erwin! This is my friend, Astraea!"

You nervously wave at both Erwin and who you now know as Levi, though you're quick to bring your hand back down to hold your other one behind your back.

You were sure Erwin wasn't who Hange was calling Shorty in their stories, and as much as you wanted to deny the possibility, Levi was probably Shorty given his obviously short stature. Curse you for wanting to meet Shorty and not considering that him and the bus stranger could've been the same person.

"Wait, your name isn't Astraea," Erwin says, quizzically looking between you and Hange.

Before you can explain, Hange butts in. "No, you wait! How do you know that? Are you stalking me and my dear friend?" They proposition, pointing an accusatory finger at Erwin.

Levi scoffs at that, and for the first time, you hear his voice. "Please, Four Eyes, as if anybody has the time to try and follow you around," he quips.

How is it possible for someone to sound so good? Dear lord.

You have to keep your eye on a decorative plant at the corner of the room to avoid making eye contact with anyone for fear of them getting a full view of your face.

"Erwin's my work senior. You know, the one that made me give up my parking spot," you tell them, eyes still locked on the plant.

At that, Hange laughs fully and puts their hand over their chest. "Small world! Well, good to know we can skip that introduction!"

"That still doesn't explain the fact that her name apparently isn't Astraea," Levi speaks up, probably rolling his eyes at Hange.

You can feel everyone's gaze shift to you, so you awkwardly choose to face Erwin as you answer. "Uh," you start. "When I was a kid, my younger brother was obsessed with Greek mythology. Astraea was one of the first names he learned and he insisted that I was 'just like her,' whatever that meant, so he'd always call me that. I ended up using it for all my usernames because I was so paranoid about people online finding my personal information. Eventually, I got so used to it that I usually just ask people to use Astraea instead of my real name."

Hange smiles and drapes an arm over your shoulder, trying to apparently get you less tense. You melt a bit into the embrace, but you're still too nervous to even look in Levi's direction.

"And your brother was right! I took a Greek mythology course in university, and you fit Astraea to a T!"

Erwin looks like he still has questions, so you nod at him to prompt him to ask them.

"How come nobody at work calls you that, then? You're close with quite a few people in the office—surely you've exchanged information with them by now."

You politely smile at that and answer.

"I ask them not to use it at work since I don't want other people in the office to look me up on social media, but they use it if we're out together."

Erwin seems content enough with your answer and offers you a calm smile. You still can't bring yourself to look at Levi, and you don't want to even begin to think about any of the possible things going through his head.

Does he even recognize you from the bus? Sure, you two have never talked or even made eye contact before this official introduction, but the bus wasn't really crowded at all. He has to at least know your face, right?

Before you can dwell on the thought, you hear Hange invite Erwin with them to go to the reservation desk to let the waitstaff know that your party has arrived, leaving you alone with Levi.

Before you can reach into your purse to try and make yourself look busy on your phone, Levi clears his throat and starts to speak. "So, you didn't know Hange and Erwin knew each other?" He asks, trying to make some conversation to fill the silence now that the other two were away.

You make no move to look at him, opting to keep your eyes on Hange's animated conversation with Erwin at the reservation desk. "No, Hange and I don't really talk about our friends all that much with each other. Just stories here and there, you know?"

Levi gives a hum in response as a signal he heard you.

God, you can already feel your palms start to get sweaty. The red on your face could probably be written off as sensitivity to the cold winter air outside, but you're done for if someone notices you wiping your hands on your coat too many times.

"Did you come with Hange?" You ask, eyes still on Hange in the distance.

"Yes. I was supposed to come with someone else, but he had a work emergency and sent Hange instead. They're probably trying to see if our reservation is still fine now that we're a person short. If I knew that Hange was going to be the one driving me, I would've just walked over here myself."

Okay, well, now you know for sure he's Shorty.

You laugh a little at his reply before tucking your hands into your coat pockets.

"That's Hange's driving for you," you start. "Have they ever talked about me before?" You question, deciding to try and gauge his opinion of you from Hange's stories of you. You see him nod from the corner of your eye.

"If you're the neighbor who lets them run around wild with a sugar rush practically every other day, then yeah, they've talked about you plenty," he remarks.

You laugh awkwardly, eyes shifting to the floor. "Good to know."

Definitely not good to know, but you weren't gonna let anyone but you know that.

Before either of you can try and save the conversation, Hange waves their arms high up in the air to get the two of you to the desk where the host is waiting with menus tucked under his arm. You and Levi walk towards them, not much distance between you and him, and the four of you are seated at a fancy booth. Hange and you sit on the same side while Erwin and Levi are seated across from you, with Levi right across from you.

There goes any chance of avoiding eye contact with him.

To buy yourself some time away from his steely gaze, you open the menu to look at the options.

Alright, you weren't actually looking at the menu. You looked it up online when Hange texted you where you were going, and you already picked out what you wanted before today. It seems that Erwin also knows what he wants, not bothering to even pick up his menu.

"Is it alright if we call you Astraea, then, seeing as we're not at work?" He asks.

You look across the table at him, glad to see that Levi brought the menu up over his face so you couldn't see each other, and nod. "Yeah, that's fine."

Hange bumps your shoulder with theirs and asks you to help them choose between the two dishes they want, and once they choose one of them, Erwin flags over the waiter.

You think it's weird that he doesn't wait for Levi to tell him he's finished looking at the menu, but you don't want to question it.

After everyone informs the waiter of what they want, he takes your menus away and comes back seconds later with napkins, both cloth and paper ones, and silverware. Out of habit, you immediately start tearing at the paper napkin to form a long strip.

"You still make those?" Erwin asks. 

You absentmindedly nod, starting to tie the small loop at one end to start the star.

"She does it everywhere we go! I have a vase of them at my place, it's a really cute decorative piece to have," Hange praises, looking over at you with their face leaned into their hand.

"I have a jar of them on my work desk, and I've gotten quite a few compliments from clients about it over the years," Erwin adds, now also watching you form the small trinket.

You finish rolling up the strip, tucking it into itself, and pinching the corners before handing it to Hange, just as you always do when the two of you are out together. This time, however, instead of putting it into their coat pocket as they usually do, they hold it in their palm and stick their arm out across the table in front of Levi, who blankly looks between the star and Hange.

"Why are you giving it to me?" He questions.

Hange groans and gets up a bit from their seat to get closer to him. "I have more than enough at home already, and Erwin seems like he does too. Just take it!"

Levi rolls his eyes but goes to grab the star from them, placing it down on the table. You didn't think he'd take it at all, but you were even more sure that he would just leave it there after dinner was over.

Hange turns their attention back to you, eager to get a conversation going at the table. "So now that I know you work with Erwin and I don't need to introduce the two of you to each other, let me tell you about Levi!" They start. "I don't know if you remember, but Levi's the one I call 'Shorty!'"

You nod at that, having figured that out already. You look back over at Levi who seems to just be looking outside a window across the restaurant.

Seeing as Levi and Shorty were the same person, you suppose it wouldn't be a bad idea to try and become acquainted with him.

Maybe becoming friends would help force your budding attraction to him down, and seeing him every week wouldn't be so stressful on your heart. The heat on your face has cooled down significantly now that you've had a moment to get settled into your environment, but there's probably still a light tint on your face that you'd probably never be able to get rid of with Levi around. If distance made the heart grow fonder, proximity should do the opposite, right?

"It's nice to meet you, Levi," you offer with a smile.

He lets his eyes trail back to you before scoffing and going back to looking outside the window. "Thanks, Four Eyes, for introducing me as a Shorty," he sarcastically says. There's a pause where nobody speaks before Levi opens his mouth again. "And is it really your first time meeting me if we see each other on the bus every week?"

You stop breathing momentarily, letting the question sink in. You awkwardly laugh for what feels like the hundredth time today.

So he does recognize you? Go figure.

"I guess not, but it's nice to finally know your name."

He nods and looks over at Erwin whose eyes were already on the raven-haired man.

"What are you looking at me like that for, fucker?"

Erwin chuckles at that, giving his friend a good-natured pat on his back. "C'mon, Levi. Be a bit nicer," he lightly scolds.

"Yeah, Levi! She's probably already terrified of you!" Hange adds.

Levi makes eye contact with you at that, seemingly trying to gauge your own opinion of him.

You raise your hands slightly up off the table in defense. "It's fine, guys! He's right, we do see each other every so often. And the client I had last week was far scarier than Levi, I think I can handle him," you joke, trying to lighten the mood.

Hange laughs at that, as does Erwin. Levi doesn't offer up any sign he thought your comment was funny, but you notice that his frown has been replaced with a neutral expression.

Until the food arrives, you and Erwin discuss some matters from work. You feel a bit guilty for having brought up that you had a bad experience with a client, since now Erwin is determined to get you to talk about it with upper management. You most definitely won't, but something tells you that he will, being who he is. Hange is listening along to your conversation, giving their own opinion or cracking a joke here and there while Levi remains quiet. Whether or not he's listening, you can't tell.

The food arrives just as you and Erwin finish talking about work. As the four of you eat, the conversation is shifted once again towards Levi.

"So, what do you do for work, Levi?" You ask cautiously, trying to find a way to include him.

His eyes don't come away from the plate of carbonara in front of him, which you're grateful for because it means you wouldn't be making eye contact again. "I'm a professor at the University downtown," he says monotonously.

"Levi, please! Give her something to work with! Astraea, he teaches architecture at Sina University on top of doing freelance work!" Hange praises.

Your eyebrows furrow as you try to put together the pieces of information you're receiving about the man.

You did your Juris Doctorate degree at Paradis Law School, but some of your professors held lecture at the Sina campus because it was further downtown and closer to their own law offices. You knew how hard it was to try and find parking at Sina, even with the parking pass you bought during your first term. You had to call the finance office several times to try and cancel it after realizing how useless it was.

He probably took the bus to and from Sina's main campus to avoid the hassle of parking.

After you were happy with the conclusion you came to, you stew a bit in the information again, this time thinking about how you would've loved to have a professor as gorgeous as Levi when you were a student. You were never one to skip class, even when you went through periods of extreme burnout, but you knew you never would've even considered ditching if lugging yourself to class meant you got to see him.

"It's really impressive that you're a professor. You probably take the bus because of how shit the parking is, right?"

At the mention of the parking conditions, Levi finally looks up from his food to scowl in your direction. You assume it's to show his disdain for the actual parking (because the other possibility is that he's annoyed at your question).

"The absolute fucking worst. I thought I was safe because I have a staff parking pass, but no. Those childish, good-for-nothing brats would even take the last parking spot right in front of my fucking eyes," he griefs. At the mental image of an unlucky student parking and running off to avoid the wrath of a random professor, you let a full, hearty laugh escape your mouth. You don't bother covering your mouth as you laugh, having already finished chewing before Levi even answered your question. Erwin and Hange join you in your jovial giggling, and they both chastise Levi for slandering the poor students.

You can't see whether Levi's smiling or not, seeing as he brought up his cloth napkin to cover the lower part of his face, but you're sure he's just doing that to hide his mouth while he chews his food.

The rest of the dinner went smoothly—much more smoothly than you anticipated.

Everyone contributed in some way or another to the steady conversation, and the anxious feeling Levi brought you over the course of the last couple of months dissipated the further into the night you got. You didn't get to learn much more about him, though. The conservation turned over to Hange, who mostly talked about work and their coworkers, but everyone at the table knew more than enough about their antics to be able to comment on the stories they were telling. Even Levi let a small smile slip onto his face every once in a while.

Hange suggests that the four of you let the waiter do a "credit card roulette" to end the night, and you assume that Erwin and Levi are used to this because they both reach into their wallets wordlessly to give their cards to Hange. Thankfully, they see your confusion and don't laugh at you for it.

"Whenever we hang out, we let the waiter blindly choose which card to pay the bill with. If you're not up for it, that's fine, but it's always a great deal of fun," Erwin says, explaining what the three of them are about to do.

"It's fun for you guys, I fucking hate doing this," Levi grumbles.

Hange laughs at that and hunches over, hand to their chest. "Good one, Levi! Astraea, don't listen to him! He's only salty because his card always gets chosen!"

You smile at Levi sympathetically and move to your purse to get your own card and hand it to Hange, deciding to join in on the "fun."

Hange cheers at your participation, and so Erwin again flags over the waiter to choose between your cards.

Hange probably coached the waiter into choosing the Chase Sapphire card when they left the table to go to the bathroom earlier, though, because it's Levi's card that gets chosen.

You see him sigh in frustration across from you, pinching the bridge of his nose, and Hange breaks out into yet another fit of laughter. You aren't really all that surprised that Levi's card gets chosen, but you join in on the moment and laugh with them, and Erwin soon also joins with a deep chuckle and some words of sympathy for Levi's bank account.

Before the receipt comes back and Levi is able to sign off on it, Hange suggests that the rest of you leave for the waiting area to avoid the guilt of seeing Levi cover such a large bill, but you decline and say you'll keep him company. Levi looks pretty confused, but he doesn't protest, and so Hange and Erwin scurry off to the front of the restaurant to wait while you and Levi sit in silence.

When the waiter comes back with the receipt and places it on the table, you grab it before Levi gets the chance to sign his name.

"What do you think you're doing?"

You hold out your pointer finger to him, effectively shushing him as you look at the total and dig into your purse to get your wallet. Your friends are usually quick to question you about why you even keep cash on you, but you always have it in case of situations such as this one. When you get enough money to cover just a little more than half the bill, you hold it out in front of Levi and give him a tight-lipped smile.

"I feel pretty bad about having you pay for my food when you don't really know me," you reason, still waiting for him to take the bills in your hand. He seems pretty caught off guard, but he makes no move to take it from you. "You and Erwin probably didn't know I was coming until a day or two ago anyway, so think of it as me apologizing for intruding on your plans."

He doesn't look offended, but he still doesn't do anything to indicate he's willing to take the money. Instead, he stands up and leans over to grab the receipt tray from you. Sitting back down, he signs his name and motions for a waiter to come over. The waiter looks a bit confused as to why you have so much money out when the bill was already paid, but he thanks you for dining with them and leaves.

Levi looks at you for what feels like an eternity before he speaks up. "There were no plans to intrude on. Hange texted us on Friday at damn near midnight to tell us we had to come to dinner with them and their friend on Sunday."

You blink slowly. And again. And again. You don't say anything, but as the silence grows, you're suddenly aware that he's been looking at you for a good while, and you can feel that all too familiar heat on your face again.

"My best guess is just as good as yours as to why they decided to introduce all of us so suddenly," he says, trying to ease your confusion.

Except he's wrong.

You know why Hange organized all this: it was to get you a chance to meet the handsome stranger you told them about just 2 days ago. 

You're finally able to gather the words you want to say after a good second, but not before you let yet another anxious laugh past your lips.

"Still, I feel pretty guilty that you're paying," you say softly, your cash still outstretched to the man in front of you. He sighs at your words.

"Don't feel bad about it, I don't mind," he starts. He sees that you're still unwavering in your resolve and continues. "But I appreciate the gesture. If you're so worried about it, let the waiter play roulette with your card again next time," and with that, he pushes your hand back towards you.

You're already too flustered for your face to get even more red than it already is, but his touch made it seem like it was possible. And what was it he said? Next time? Would you be meeting with him in this group again? Would you even be opposed to that?

No. No, you already thought to yourself it would be nice to befriend him, even before you knew who he was.

Desperate to get some air, you sheepishly shove your cash back into your purse, not bothering to put it back neatly into your wallet, and get up from the table.

"Alright, I'll do that then," you say.

He nods in return and starts getting up himself. Once he's up on his feet, you start heading over to where Hange and Erwin should be. You notice that Levi's eyes are lingering in the direction you just came from, so you tap his shoulder to get his attention.

"Did you forget something at the table?" You ask.

He hesitates a moment before nodding, saying a quick "go ahead" to you before walking back to where the lot of you just sat.

You, not wanting to be inconsiderate, stay put and wait for him to return. Soon enough, you see him come back with a hand in his pants pocket, and the two of you continue the trek over to your friends. You don't remember feeling like the walk was so far, but you could probably chalk that up to the fact you were completely stuck in a daze earlier. You still were, to some degree, but it was to a much lesser one now.

When you catch sight of each other, Hange gives you a huge smile just as they do every time they see you, and the four of you head out of the door, thanking the man holding it open. Everyone's car in different areas around the building, so you all have to exchange pleasantries before heading your separate ways.

You hug Hange goodbye first, and they thank you for coming along to dinner. You thank them for inviting you as well, and Hange immediately moves to say goodbye to Levi, leaving you to send off Erwin.

"I didn't expect you to be who Hange was bringing, but it was nice seeing you," he says, extending a hand out for you to shake.

You accept it firmly, and you smile up at him. "I didn't think I'd ever catch you outside of work either, but yeah. It was nice," you reply.

He returns the smile you give him, and Hange comes over to the two of you to nudge you over towards Levi and take your previous spot in front of Erwin.

You didn't think Levi seemed like the type to care for physical touch, despite the earlier exchange you had at the table, so you don't offer him a hand or hug. Instead, you bring your hand up to give him a wave. You get a nod in return, which you'll take as his own way of saying goodbye.

"You know Hange's gonna drag you around everywhere with us now, right?"

You chuckle at that and look up at the dark sky above you, your hands in your pockets. They're no longer as clammy as they were when you first made eye contact with Levi, thankfully, but the warm of your coat is still very much welcome.

"Yeah, but I think I'll manage."

Just barely out of your line of vision, Levi's expression gets just that tiny bit more peaceful, and he joins you in looking up at the sky. He mumbles something under his breath, but you don't quite catch it.

After one last goodbye to everyone, Erwin walks across the street, Hange and Levi head over to the valet area, and you walk over to your car parked a little bit down the road. As you sit down and position yourself to back out of your parking spot, you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding.

There's a heat that creeps its way back to your ears and cheeks, just as it does every time you think of the handsome stranger from bus 143, but for the first time, you don't feel inclined to try and to get rid of it.

✰

Next Chapter

[syb-la-tortue]

I'm so sorry to hear about your account! Your bonus lore in the tags has long been my favorite thing about following you here. (Unfortunately for my ability to view your art, I had to bail out of Twitter a while back for my own good — and the site is totally unusable without an account now, even following your source links directly. :( )

I hope there is a way to restore your Tumblr without too much additional headache. In case there isn't (or maybe even if there is) and you'd like somewhere you can tag ramble, may I recommend Pillowfort ( https://www.pillowfort.social/ )? It is like a hybrid of Tumblr and LiveJournal, and it's user-funded so it can host adult content without having to appease advertisers. Not only does it support tag rambles and long-form posts, but there's also per-post flagging for adult content — so users can filter without having to rely on tagging conventions.

yeahhh I'm really sad to have lost all the tags and headcanon posts too, I had a backup of my whole blog made just after the first purge but I didn't think of making a new one since, which obviously was a mistake as I shouldn't have felt safe here...

so far I haven't heard back from tumblr support so I really don't hold much hope at this point for getting it back u_u

I got a pillowfort account back in the day (SybLaTortue over there too) but I never really got to use it (everything was still new and messy back then and it didn't feel that safe a place, idk if that changed?) and starting anew somewhere is always rough... would love to hear more opinions about it (and other platforms! Cohost is another that I thought might have potential?), bit like I heard of many creators starting to post over on Bluesky before starting to crosspost there myself, I'm a bit nervous jumping into a new place if I don't see a few familiar names around haha

[weaselandfriends]

I asked you this a while ago (as anonymouscardboard which I am no longer using since I got tired of switching accounts) but are you going to put When I Win on Sufficient Velocity and Spacebattles? Please do because there's already a lot of cool Pokemon stories on there and I want even more people to see WIW. It will be awesome.

Nice to see you again Anonymouscardboard, I really appreciated all the cool fan art you did. (Also that fanfic of Somebody's Little Sister, though it seems like it got taken down, or at least the link I had to it broke.)

As for your question, I was in fact planning to put it on Spacebattles. I'm not very familiar with Sufficient Velocity, but crossposting is easy, so I could easily put it there too. I would prefer to post on a wide variety of places, so more people can see and discuss.

The idea of posting on a more traditional forums like SB and SV appeals for another reason. Today I received a reblog on a post about Cleveland Quixotic from @itsthisornothing that had these tags:

Probably about half the total discussion of my works, if not more, occurs on places like the Homestuck discord or Alexander Wales' Worth the Candle discord that talks about a lot of webfic. It'd be cool to have more discussion out there that people could search for and read if they have an interest in the material.

So yeah, I'm going to try and put it everywhere I can. Right now that list is: AO3, RoyalRoad, ff.net (if the site is even still up next week...), Spacebattles, Sufficient Velocity.

[bemorestrange]

hi guys <3 still alive:)

[[ i (mod mell) have been working lately (AKA the past several months) on a neocities site for all things Life is Weird, most notably the wiki-esque thing i was trying to make in another sitemaker. this static wiki will have a lot of spoilery information in it, and obviously will be much more in-depth than [this page] ! but it will look WAY cooler and should be fairly responsive on desktop AND mobile :D

it's nowhere near done, and what IS being worked on isn't quite shareable yet imo, but i've been coding a lot and porting information into it for a while now. with this site, i'll also be able to host any non-linear story installments made using twine (program) without a fuss \o/ plus, it's another place to host the regular written updates, most important art, and other stuff!

in other news, a few days ago i got home from visiting mod nova for a month :} it was a good trip, and accidentally the longest one to date, oops ^^; now we're slowly starting a backlog of LIW story stuff again, though it'll take a hot minute to have enough for any of it to be post-ready. bear with us as we pull the curtain closed on episode 1, slowly but surely haha. please continue to read and reblog!!

i also hope to start crossposting the story onto pillowfort.social sometime this year, once their drafts & queue features are finalised. there's a lot i have on my plate wrt the AU, so we'll see when that actually starts, though it HAS been planned for a while now.

thanks for reading this modpost <3 ]]

[cosmindart]

Crossposting here so maybe I have better chance at finding a solution but I REALLY want a solution. my OC Story Achive AskIsaak as well as my Resource archive, my UTAU site and a couple more were made on Wix. For obvious reason I do not want to use Wix anymore but I don't know where to go instead.

I'd also love it if there was a tool of sort that can copy/recreate a Wix site onto another platform or something.

Remaking WavSEED's UTAU page or the Randomago Dex would be easy but AskIsaak has like 4000 images that goes in a specific order and some have captions so it would be quite time consumming to remake from scratch, same goes for the resource archive.

[mcalhenwrites]

A break from social media and how I use it has really been good for me. I need to be careful not to be sucked back in again. I should aim to mostly just post updates, but I do want to talk about my characters/writing as well. I will continue promoting my book, and ofc my Patreon and KoFi which are both "MCalhen" ;) I've been thinking about taking most (not all) of my fics and original works out of the private collection on AO3. I have a dilemma with one fandom (it's a nightmare circus of drama and several authors were chased out or hurt well before me), but I hope to eventually have the nerve to overcome that and say, "Too bad, you have to put up with the existence of my writing alongside yours. Get over it." Another thing is that Rascal isn't coming out of the collection. I plan to delete it. It's getting edited, I'm adding a couple of scenes I think would benefit the storytelling, and I'm publishing it. :) I'm on the fence about whether or not to release the original Seasons with comments closed, bc while it might be fun to compare it to the new one... so many things have been improved. Maybe it's also important to realize that if someone is that fixated on saying an earlier draft is permanent, that's a them issue and has nothing to do with me. A lot of my current WIPs are divided between if I'm going to publish them or post them on AO3. I have a few that I'm uncertain about either way. I want to share some work for free, and I have some stuff that's dark enough, self-publishing isn't much of an option right now. Note that when I promote my patreon and kofi, it's for original writing and art. No fanfic or fanart. The only link it has to AO3 is that I draw sketches of things from original stories posted to AO3. I will never post commercial links to the site, as that is against TOS. Seasons will always be free. Which leads to another thought: I wonder if I could get away with crossposting it to any sites? (I considered fictionpress.) I'm feeling better and want to keep sharing my work. I want to keep monetizing some of it. I want to be an author. I also really want to share things for free. Seasons is one of those stories that resonates a lot with people, and I know how badly I've always needed a story like that told. It's why I write, is to tell stories I need. But that one is... uniquely special and personal. I always want it to be accessible without any paywall. But I still need to make a living. So some books will be sold. Some will not. Just slap me if I ever get to be one of those big names who thinks I can do whatever I want, like those people on AO3 who say that they won't update their fics unless you pay them on patreon. (That's something you report to AO3 as a violation btw) I don't know where a good place to ramble about my stories is - probably here, since people can send me asks about characters and stories - but I'd like to do that, bc I enjoy doing it. :'D Anyway, I have my goals mostly figured out. Maybe someday I can post more of my work without hiding it away (yes, what you see is a fraction of what I write). Maybe I can also publish and make enough money to afford things I need, including a house with a yard and garden.