#i cant tell if i want them to be completely one half with their organs visible from the side

[heyimanowl]

WOAH MAMA!

[celaenaeiln]

bruh every single time u mention about bruce and dick it has me going “man id be worried abt them if they were real cause thats so unhealthy like they fight each other but they cant stand to be separated damn but good thing this all r fiction lmao”

I burst out laughing when I read this cause it's true!

Forever Evil Issue #5

The world is literally half gone. Things are so bad that villains have banded together to fight evil and Bruce is here saying that the world can die if it means saving Dick.

Not a single care if the world is blown up or millions lose their lives if it means keeping Dick alive.

But right after this,

Nightwing (2011) Issue #30

He punches fights Dick while telling him he loves him!!

What do you do with with this man?!

"I trained you to live, and I watched you die!"

Bruce, don't you think the person who actually died has more truama than you watching them?!

But, no, of course not because this is Bruce.

Nightwing (2011) Issue #30

Spyral is an organization that even Bruce didn't know about. Something even more mysterious than the Court of Owls.

Nightwing (2011) Issue #30

He's literally beating Dick while simultaneously telling him how he's the best in the world.

But here's the kicker - Bruce is furious that Dick was taken away from him, hence the beating.

All this fighting, he's mad that Dick lost his life. How dare he lose something that's in Bruce's control.

And that's where the problem comes. Bruce wants 100% control over Dick. Over his actions, over his life, over his death. The level of control he wants over Dick - insane.

They are so emotionally attached and that's unhealthy but it's also really addicting to watch! Because Bruce just wants complete control over Dick while Dick wants to be on his own, independently but Bruce refuses to let Dick have that and they both know it which is why they devolve into arguments.

Right after Dick recovered from have his life brutally controlled by the Joker, literally right after, Bruce goes full throttle on manipulating Dick to come back into his side.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #75

All Dick wants is a small break so he can collect himself. He hasn't even changed out of his costume yet because the Joker mind controlled him with a memory crystal that rewrote his entire memory as if the Joker was the one who saved Dick after his parents died. That's insane.

But Bruce immediately does this-

Nightwing (2016) Issue #75

HE MANIPULATED DICK TO GET HIM BACK. But when that doesn't work, when Dick still wants a break from Nightwing, Bruce pulls out his final card - his ace.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #75

He guilt trips him with Alfred's death, with Dick's other father's death to tell him that his dead dad wouldn't want Dick to live this way.

And that is how Dick becomes Nightwing again.

I used to think that Bruce used to hurt Dick emotionally by pretending to abstain from loving him but the problem really is that Bruce loves Dick too much to let him go. He cripples Dick's freedom because he wants Dick to always stay with him rather than letting him go and be free. And that's equally toxic on the other extreme of the spectrum.

[scriptstructure]

Heyho! Your blog is an amazing resource!

I have an ide that i am not sure will work and i am loking for ways to make it more organic.

My main character is trying to force himself to fulfill a role as a military leader within his society that makes him miserabel for the sake of protecting his family. I start the story in medias res and it moves him out of his usual enviroment into one where he doesn't need to fill his role because there is no comunication between him and back home, Most of the people from his army are not there with him except for two of his close friends so he can't realy properly fill it either.

Him trying to act as much within his role as a way to try to reasure himself that he is doing everything he can for his family (he is not thinking rationaly) and both stopping himself from getting used to something, that in his mind, can't last. The role he is trying to assume is not analogous with him at all. But since i write close third person pov and he is denying it, i cant show it clearly. I want to clue the reader in by only showing him struggling with maintaining his fake persona after it half fals apart and not a lot of him sucessfuly pretending so the reader sees that he is full of it and it doesn't come across like him suddenly changing character when he starts to let go. I worry it will not work out because the relative lack of exposition with him in the role proper and a lot of him being a disaster. I worry i will make him look incompetent. I worry there are a thousand other pitfals i don't even see. Do you have any idea how to make this character arck better structured.

There are a few different ways that you can approach this sort of thing, and it's going to depend on what kind of story you're telling and what kind of character you want this guy to be, so I'm going to show you how I would work through this character arc, giving a few lines of thought.

My main character is trying to force himself to fulfill a role as a military leader within his society that makes him miserabel for the sake of protecting his family.

Question 1: why is he trying to force himself into this role in particular, esp. when it effects him so badly?

Potential answers:

He sees this role as a position of power which he feels he must maintain to ensure his family's safety, using systemic influence as a barrier between his family and whatever danger he percieves as threatening them. He does not believe in the correctness, or function of his role, or the system he's a part of, but must pretend to conform in order to maintain his position

He's a true believer, he really believes that this role is vital and important, and that he needs to be able to fulfill it, or at least that if he were a real or proper (man, citizen, soldier, etc) then he OUGHT to be able to fulfill it. He probably sees his own struggle and failures as a personal flaw or weakness compared to what he believes he SHOULD be

He's been 'going along with' his position for his whole career, and due to circumstances or politicking has ended up in a position way above his ability level, and is stuck, if he shows that he can't handle the position it will cause danger and instability to himself and his family

He is a believer in the system and has worked to gain his position, but personal issues (poor health, mental health, outside circumstances, etc) have rendered him unable to fulfill the role that he had previously wanted. He still can't retire or give it up because he feels holding that position is key to protecting his family from the threat he percieves

There are probably many more options that you could go through for his particular position, but notice that in each of these, he must maintain the illusion of being completely competent and in control, even though he is internally suffering due to his position.

I start the story in medias res and it moves him out of his usual enviroment into one where he doesn't need to fill his role because there is no comunication between him and back home, Most of the people from his army are not there with him except for two of his close friends so he can't realy properly fill it either.

Question 2: Why doesn't he stop trying to fulfill his role when he is taken out of the environment in which it is required?

Potential answers (multiple of these may be true in varying degrees at once):

He has developed a habit of fulfilling this role which is difficult to break out of because he has been doing it consistently and constantly over many years, these actions have become reflexive for him

He really believes that what he does is good and necessary, and is determined to keep doing it no matter how much it hurts him personally, or how futile the effort may seem

He has developed a habit of fulfilling this role, and outside of it just does not know what to do anymore. Rather than being reflexive, as in answer #1, he uses the role to cover that he doesn't know what else to do in a given situation, the role has become a script he can follow

He does not know that he is 'out of the system' and may fear that this is a trick or test, and that if he fails at performing his role adequately, he or his family will be punished

And so on. The important thing here, is that fulfilling the role serves a purpose for him outside of the role itself.

Also, many times, when someone has been doing a thing for a long time, no matter how much they dislike it, they may automatically return to that action. Think, for instance, about people slipping back into 'customer service mode' or 'teacher voice' when they aren't at work.

Him trying to act as much within his role as a way to try to reasure himself that he is doing everything he can for his family (he is not thinking rationaly) and both stopping himself from getting used to something, that in his mind, can't last.

I would suggest that if you think about this situation from his perspective, he may be acting entirely rationally.

Does he know for sure that letting the role drop won't have negative consequences?

Does he believe that the role itself is pointless?

Does he know that the people who are with him definitely won't betray him if he lets the role drop?

Can he be sure that if he does let it drop in this situation, word will never get back to his superiors that this 'failure' has occurred?

If he doesn't have certainty about these points, then from his point of view, continuing to attempt to fulfill that role may seem like the most rational, sensible option.

I want to clue the reader in by only showing him struggling with maintaining his fake persona after it half fals apart and not a lot of him sucessfuly pretending so the reader sees that he is full of it and it doesn't come across like him suddenly changing character when he starts to let go. I worry it will not work out because the relative lack of exposition with him in the role proper and a lot of him being a disaster. I worry i will make him look incompetent.

As the story is in close third person perspective, I think that a good tool in your workshed here is going to be the expectations that the other characters have of this guy and his skills and competence.

If someone who knows him well expects him to be able to handle whatever the current situation is with ease, but instead he gets mad, or is avoidant, or decides that actually something else is more important to be concerned with, then you can use the character's reaction to his actions to shape the understanding of him.

Character 1: We should ask That Guy what to do about The Event, because he's got experience and he's always seemed like a sensible person who can deal with Problems That Guy: There's an Event? Well have you filled out the paperwork correctly? Do you think that we can just do things the wrong way just because we're in the middle of nowhere? If you don't do the paperwork, then no wonder Problem is happening! I have to go and polish my uniform buttons now, because the regulation handbook says uniform must be neat and tidy at all times. Character 1: Wow, he was very sweaty and flustered and that didn't seem like something he would say at all. Now I'm panicking because The Event is happening, and it seems like he's not even interested in helping with Problem.

The other characters probably won't know what exactly his problem is, but they don't need to. You could have them speculate that he's acting strangely because he just loves his role so much and is unable to function without it, for example.

As well, I don't think that him 'changing character suddenly' is a problem in this case, in fact, I think that that is probably exactly what is happening: he is going from playing the role that he has had to fulfill, to having to be 'the real him' without any safety nets or assistance.

It sounds to me like a sort of breakdown, where all of the things he's relied on in the past are no longer functional options. That's upsetting for anyone, even when the structure you've been relying on is dysfunctional or harmful--'better the evil you know than the one you don't' and so on.

It might be helpful for you to read about military or quasi-military individuals in extreme situations, so that you can see some of the ways that these roles can be used helpfully, or clung to harmfully.

Military discipline is intended to be a way of training large groups of people to act in certain ways when given certain instructions, even when they're in immediate danger. This often involves very particular and arbitrary rules, which are treated with a large degree of weight when it comes to discipline.

Let's use uniform rules as an example:

A uniform creates a uniformity among members of each rank, as well as creating differentiation between ranks. It limits expressions of individuality, and creates an appearance of group cohesion.

Uniform rules may include things like the proper styling and grooming of hair and facial hair, the correct wearing of shirts, jackets, ties, etc. The correct method of shoe polishing. Clenliness, neatness, and keeping things in good repair.

Some of these are going to be functional: it's no use going into the field with a pair of trousers that are about to tear through at the seams.

Some of these are going to be non-funtional, but useful in creating order: Everyone wears their hat tilted to the same side, someone who does it differently may be trying to start conflict with superiors, may be struggling with the requirements of the rank, or may not have been properly instructed.

In an emergency situation, a good and competent officer should be able to tell the difference between these two things, and to adjust enforcement accordingly.

A leader of a polar exploration mission who is fixated on making sure that crewmembers have all polished their shoes correctly, but isn't concerned that the cold-weather gear is inadequate and leading to men getting frostbite or freezing to death, is not adjusted properly to the situation that they are in.

On the other hand: A leader of a polar expedition who notices that discontentment is leading to conflict among the crew may assign busywork to certain individuals who seem to be causing trouble, to keep them from having time to do so. The fellow can't keep picking fights if he's too busy and exhausted from having to clean and mend gear all day.

Of course, this is all going to be relative to your characters' particular situations, but if you think about how your character may attempt to utilise proceedures that he thinks of as methods of creating order, but applies them improperly to the situation at hand, then you can find ways to show that he knows what he's doing, and in another situation may be competent, but is unsuited to the current situation.

Things to keep in mind:

Learned and repeated behaviour vs 'true' feelings, intents, or wishes

Investment in his role and in the system vs desire to do otherwise

Outside threats or pressures vs inside stresses

Other characters expectations and assumptions based on past experience vs behaviours occurring in new context

I think you're probably on the right track with this character and I think it will be helpful for you to work on developing a sense of the relationships between this guy and the characters he is isolated with, so that their expectations and assumptions of him can stand in for exposition of him being 'successful' in his role.

I hope this helps!

Mason

(if I missed anything, or there's a need for clarification, please feel free to ask again!)

[jbt7493]

if your stance as a maker of a "vetted fundraiser list" is that its such an important crisis that you need to lie to people to make them more likely to donate, but you dont actually vet the fundraisers, there are a few options

there is of course the obvious "you are one of the scammers". Which. It is very strongly incentivized for a scammer to try and make it onto the group of people organizing this list.

theres being too lazy to bother, in which case you're a fucking self righteous hypocrite and are willfully helping funnel money away from palestinians and into the pockets of scammers because this extremely important thing isnt important enough for you to care about actually helping

you just believe that there arent scammers with no evidence or that the scammers are somehow actually just as in need of money as refugees of a genocide, in which case you are a fucking idiot, sorry. no way around saying that one.

or perhaps you believe acknowledging scammers exist would reduce would-be-donators confidence enough that not only donations to scammers would drop (good!) but also donations to palestinians- but as a reminder, all these donations to gofundmes that might be real could be going to charities that are completely guaranteed to be legitimate. and i dont know how to tell you this, but willfully lying *makes you untrustworthy*. if you actually did some work you could make an *actually* vetted list of fundraisers, where all the donations would go to real palestinians instead of some, and knowing that you arent perfectly fine with half of your list being scammers would really inspire more confidence in me not less.

also, as a reminder- nothing wrong with people wanting to get their families out of palestine, i cant blame them, but the conditions, number of slots available, and the fees are all ridiculous and being used to extort palestinians. not all palestinian families can cross the border. the ones left inside matter too- and you could be paying for food and water to be given to them, something which would benefit a larger number of palestinians, benefits from economies of scale (ie if they receive a hundred donations of 100 dollars each, they can buy more food per hundred dollars than you can), and doesnt incentivise officials to jack the price of border crossing up to extort even more. and unlike these gofundmes, the UNRWA is actually trustworthy and has publicly available information on whats being done with the money

[moodindigov]

hey guys nerd moment about the title of the fic (this is long im sorry)

mood indigo was actually a jazz song released in the 1930’s by duke ellington, barney bigard with lyrics by irving mills, except bigard said that its real credit is derived from his clarinet teacher, Lorenzo Tio’s, melodies. so that clarinet part like biagrd’s solo? yea that was Lorenzo tio’s melodies that weren’t full developed and when bigard did finish them and show them so ellington, he liked it and it was included. and like its almost impossible to tell where ellington’s collaborators part begin bcs apparently he’s js that good at blending that stuff idk (dont take that last part as a fact thats purely from what i remember.) anyways, mood indigo is about a little boy and little girl who are eight. girl loves boy and while they never acknowledge the feelings, the girl waits at her window bcs the boy visits her. and the song basically describes the feeling the girl had when the boy didnt visit her. so you may be asking, duct why would u choose something like that as a title for a book about the slump in london 1930s and about criminal organizations? well, dear anon, here u r:

1. literal (?) meaning; im gonna be so honest with you i purely got this idea from brendan and neksa / jess and morgan. i couldnt stop thinking about that wonderful art i found of brendan and neksa it was of neksa as a raven or crow i dont rmb but point is that its gorgeous and stunning i love it. the idea that brendan denies his feelings of love for her purely because he half doesn’t want to acknowledge that he’s become so attached to a person in such an intimate way and half because he just cant risk his father (or anyone) finding out that he’s gone and practically betrayed his dad’s whole like symbolism in tje trading world (remember they don’t like the library. yk how contradicting it would be to have one of the biggest illegal book trader’s son dating someone from the library, especially someone who works in like the same facility as the archivist? yea its damnable like no ones gonna trust ca. brightwells or his business anymore.) anyways the literal meaning: girl is sad bcs boy didn’t visit/come back to her. brendan literally left neksa (the woman he was oh so deeply in love with) because he didn’t want to hurt her and played it off as the fact that he didn’t love her. and when jess comes back as brendan (lmaoo) i feel like you can imagine the smallest sliver of hope she had that they can be something again but its practically disappeared next to the pure anger and grief in her heart. and when neksa dies, brendan can’t visit her anymore. its literally not possible. (until he died then maybe they could be happy tgt). this is so many words words words guys i promise im not actually this much of a nerd on a daily basis this is just interesting to me. anyways, once again, girl is sad bcs boy didn’t visit her one day. umm we can go back and look into jess’ past: boy is eternally sad bcs his brother died. aka: boy is sad bcs his brother can’t visit him. like ever. sad sad sad moments💔💔

2. this is like an actual stretch but um i consider it okay so basically girl being sad is jess boy who didnt visit (or wont anymore) is a semblance of love or sanctuary. throughout the series its obvious that jess just doesn’t trust his family. im pretty sure he even says it like he does not trust them. but hey, maybe he did once. maybe he did when he was a little boy who had an older brother who he could rely on—one that taught him how to walk and that taught him the basics. someone who he could go to for advice and who could help him keep his head above water. now we don’t have a characterization, but i’m going off of @thegreatlibraryfangirl’s advice and kinda semi-making my own..so um sorry if u dont like that guys..but anyways i feel like the moment jess starts to really rely and trust the other’s is the moment that melancholy feeling, that mood indigo, goes away. it doesnt go away completely, theres always gonna be a solid chunk never satisfied but thats okay because he has people he can trust with his life that will help him get through it. not only this but the bond that jess and dario (will) share in this au represents that. they’re both young—maybe 13 max but they both lack one thing that only they can give esch other; sanctuary.

[jellysshitpoems]

Does your interest in nuclear energy cover waste disposal and messaging? Nuclear semiotics was likely what got me into learning about nuclear energy. It’s such an interesting challenge to work with- the time scale is hard for me to wrap my head around sometimes, but it’s nice to think that we’re kind enough to care about people who will live thousands of years from now who might be exposed to the waste.

Anon you either have impeccable timing or you’re a witch. I was just at a NWMO event a couple weeks ago!!

Think I’ve said this before but the NWMO is the nuclear waste management organization for Canada, and they’re currently working on a long term storage plan for all of Canadas nuclear waste! It was another event they held through the MNO, the Metis nation of Ontario. They explained their plans for a long term storage facility, their location ideas, and all the science and logistics behind it! It was so so interesting and so much fun! It was a smaller event, about sixteen people maybe, this is because the event included a tour of the reactor at McMaster (best day of my life) and they do tours in groups of ten for y’know safety and things

I wouldn’t say my interest doesn’t involve things like this, but it’s definitely not something I had looked much into previous. Ive seen a few videos about temp storage and read some articles and what not, but other then that its not something Im particularly interested in. I don’t know if Ive actually explained this before (Im sure I have) but my specific special interest is focused on Chernobyl and nuclear disasters, everything else is already an off shoot of that, so the further from that and the more ‘niche’ it gets the more I sort of loose interest

Anyways Im getting off topic- it’s not very interesting to me, but I certainly know a lot about it now Id say! I got to spend about an hour talking to one of our event coordinators just him, me, and my mom. The conversation differed a lot, it was a lot about the politics surrounding nuclear (which boy oh boy, can I YAP about.), but I definitely took the opportunity to discuss what he had been telling us about. The amount of thought put into the long term storage facility is astounding. They reached out to communities all along the Canadian shield, and only considered building in places that had said they’d be okay with them being there. It’s currently narrowed down to just two areas, one in northern Ontario which has already voted yes on the fully fleshed out plan, and the Bruce area, which has yet to vote but is the preferred area due to the proximity to Bruce nuclear. They want to build in these areas because of the rock layers, I cant remember exact numbers, but they want to dig down well past where surface water reaches, where the rock is so thick and dense that even if water did somehow reach down there, erode away the actual containers (which the science behind is also amazing), and make it back up to the surface, it’d take so long the like 100 thousand year half life would already be well past done. The plan is so detailed and the regulations they intend to follow are so strict, we will never see its completion. They have plans for this 100 years down the line. Its crazy.

There’s the ten years they’ve spent doing all this education and planning out the facility, the next ten years they’ll spend getting the proper permits, all the construction time, then getting more permits… then finally moving all the waste there… then sealing it… then monitoring it… the voting on wether or not to shut it down or continue to monitor it.. but that vote is so far in the future we’ll be long dead by that point.

I think Ive gone on too long unfortunately 😅 but theres my little summary. Have I mentioned that they’re taking a separate vote for the local indigenous communities in the possible build areas? And that they’ll stop considering that area if they vote no?? And have I mentioned all the programs they’ve done educating Métis and Native American people on how it all works so we’re reassured it wont affect traditional practices or the environment??? And that they’re already testing areas for radiation just for our peace of mind???? And they’re going to test a FIFTY KILOMETER diameter around the site to make sure the radiation hasn’t contaminated anything?????? FIFTY KILOMETRES???????

Okay now Ive DEFINITELY gone on too long, but it’s been so so nice seeing a company actually concerned for and dedicated to preserving cultural practices of indigenous people in Canada. The amount of people Ive seen go to these events expecting to fight with the NWMO people but leave with their minds changed about nuclear as a whole is astonishing, just goes to show how much harm misinformation causes, and how a company putting in the effort really helps

[exotrauma-vents]

HEAVY TW for mutilation, torture, body horror, kidnapping, death, massacres, public humilliation, forced cannibalism, manipulation, propaganda, brainwashing and some cult and lovebombing mentions. (also cw for caps and repetition)

i feel disgusting tbh. i cant seem to get that feeling of discomfort away.

i hate having my flesh and bones ripped apart for fun. i hate feeling my blood on my back. i hate the feeling of my skin being ripped off. i hate the crunching sounds of my mask breaking to pieces. i hate the way theyd steal it and torture me again if they saw me gluing it back together. i hate looking at myself and wanting to vomit. i can still feel those stupid lamprey eel arms tearing me apart and feeding on my organs. i can sense that microscopic amount of their venom running through my veins. the torment and humilliation of having my face exposed and shared online.

i was trapped for days in there. along with my best friend some of my comrades. i think they were like.. 100 ppl? yeah, approximately. i dont know who they were. they seemed traumatized aswell. we were dehydrated, sleep deprived, and the only food we were offered were the remains of our peers, already consumed by someone else and regurgitated into a cupcake which we couldn’t even eat because they were right in front of us. most of us refused to eat it, but theyd sometimes force us to eat it through threats or pushing it into our mouths through forcefully anyways.

they did if for fun. for fun. for FUCKING. FUN. THEY JUST THOUGHT “wouldnt it be silly id we kidnapped and traumatized our ex-friends??”. THEY DID IT FOR FUN!!! ITS DISGUSTING!!!!!

by the time we got rescued, we were maybe like 7 people. i cant seem to remember. they threw explosives at the monsters that were torturing us and it worked. my legs werent able to function, and both of my arms were ripped out. luckily we found one and we were able to stitch it back. on the way out i found my friend’s dead body, laying on the floor and half eaten. i was devastated. if i could go hug it, i would have. but i couldnt. so i spent the rest of my time crying because i couldn’t be with my friend on its last moments.

i tried to tell the MEG about this, but they insisted they needed to see my face (which required me to take off my mask, an item with strong cultural meaning, that held my personal and cultural identity. i’d dissociate heavily if it was taken off or broken.) to prove i had gotten scars from it and that killing the creatures that literally massacred us on multiple occassions made us equally as violent as them, even though it was literally self defense and they couldnt feel pain. wanderers weren’t safe either, as they had been manipulated by partygoer propaganda and shot us on sight because rhey thought we were dangerous. we had to pretend to be extinct and run away from our home to a completely different place just to find safety. all the names we have are either the MEG’s way to reduce us to an anomalous entity that should be studied for science and A LITERAL CARICATURE OF US THE PARTYGOERS INVENTED FOR THEIR SICK PROPAGANDA!!

everyone hates us. everyone hates us for no reason why do you all hate us?!?!?! WHY DO YOU ALL HATE US???!!!?!? YOU HAVE NO FUCKING REASON TO HATE US YOU HYPOCRITES!!!!! we used to be good friends with the partygoers (even though they also abused and brainwashed us during our friendship and kinda resembled a cult?..)! we used to rescue wanderers and shelter them for free!! we used to help the MEG understand our biology in ways that didn’t require us to take off our masks!!!

i cant seem to get it out of my head. i feel so gross i need to take a shower.

the worst part is that i kinda wanna go back. i know i hated it. i know it was bad. but i cant help the fact that they brainwashed me into finding some sort of comfort in it and that it was just tame friendly fire and that it was the only thing i was good for. i feel like a traitor for that. a freak. a failure. they also made me think that of myself but i dont care. im worthless!! im fucking pathetic!! im an asshole for hating them!!! they gave me everything i needed!! they payed attention to me and cared for me (that was kinda lovebombing but idgaf. at least they pretended to love me!!)!! they were my only true friends (also manipulation)!!!! why did i leave them like that?!?!!!!?

anyways sorry for the long rant. im so fucked up

feel free to delete this if its too gory but. i just needed to say this somewhere yk.

uhhhhhhh hope my mutuals dont find this

.

[andynked]

Strung along from Kitchen, across the stage, and stumbling after Hyacinthe was an new and welcomed experience. Normally the front of the line, Andrew was more than willing to fall after Cin- her legs being longer, and strides being wider than Andy's.

In no time, the two of them were in the privacy of the dressing room, and while Andy was eager to start in on Cin, he couldn't deny himself the chance to look. Curiosity drew his eyes from wig to wig, from heel to heel, lipstick to eyeshadow, taking in all the glitz and glam he was not use to. Compact cases of things that he was not sure the name of, but he knew the women wore it- he just wasn't sure how.

He was in awe, such dazzling accessories just placed messily ( and at some point, organized ) everywhere, in each corner. He couldn't bring himself to look away until Cin had spoke.

Cleaning his face, he let drift a small laugh, canting his head sideways so she could clean him much easier. Within moment's, their lips were locked once more and the kisses were just as eager and messily placed as before. He pinched the condom between his fingers and used his hand to direct her back against a nearby vanity, leading to the fall of multiple tubes of lipsticks.

Kisses were peppered down her neck, soft bites placed at every other one. He was moving fast, but not so fast that he would neglect her.

Two fingers slipped down under her waist band, and due to the loose fit, they were easy to slide off her hip. He pulled from Hyacinthe then, locking eyes with her, winking before dropping down on his knees.

God, I'm too old for this shit. But fuck it.

Lips locked to her hip, and with each kiss, the pants were tugged lower until she was completely exposed. Outter thigh to the inner thigh, a string of kisses and love bites scattered on her thighs. Slowly, one of her legs was propped on his shoulder, and he licked his lips. His heart had begun to race, it had been so long- too damn long since being this intimate with someone. But there was not one regret in his mind as he peered upward with hot brown eyes and took a deep breath. "Go easy on me, 'kay?"

═════════════════════════════════════════

He found himself flushed with a small amount of embarrassment, as he thought a half hour wasn't enough. He hoped for more, but now he was just hoping the foreplay made up for it. Fake it 'till you make it.

Faux confidence washed over him as he used his thumb, mopping up what spilled on to the table- from Andy or Cin, he was not sure.- and pressed his thumb to his tongue, tasting whichever had ended up there. Face reddening, knowing he looked ridiculous, Andrew began to button up his jeans and adjust his shirt. From tousled hair to sweating eyes, swolen lips, he was a walking, talking flag. He may as well had been wearing a sign-

Hey Everyone! I had SEX!

Moments passed where he was silent, every so often averting his eyes from Cin, but simultaneously wanting to see her face. Was she satisfied? Was she disappointed? Did she regret it? He couldn't tell, nor was he sure he wanted to know. But if this was to continue, he needed to know how to improve- if there was anything he could do different, more areas to keep in mind. Maybe Cin didn't like something he did- who was to know.

His clothes were adjusted and his hair was combed back, roughly- at this point he just needed to fidget. Needing something to do with his hands. When there was nothing left to fix, a sigh left him and he finally spoke,

"So how...how was it?"

Hearing this validation of his consent coming directly from his lips, despite them being buried in her neck and sending chills throughout her whole body, sent her heart into a mad rush and her lips looking for his to meet them halfway in a hungry kiss. Her hands did not know what to grab anymore, too eager to touch him, but finally settled to wrap around his large shoulders and pull him closer until their hips pressed against one another and she could feel the desire he had towards her - and was deprived of this feeling just as quickly.

Long lashes vibrated as her eyes blinked open and raised to him only for her lips to form an "o" as she understood what he meant. And suddenly, she smiled. This smile was calm, happy, confident. Hands went to cup his cheeks and caress his stubble gently. "It's okay." Her heart could have bursted at how considerate and sweet he was. It was the first time anyone showed this much respect towards her, towards her body. If he was only in for the sex, he would not be this tender, this careful. She took her time to pull him closer into a long, passionate kiss before pushing Andy away and getting up.

Their hands laced so she could pull him along with her, leaving the kitchen, crossing the entire theater, even the stage, to the changing room where she knew there was a box of condoms buried under makeup and unkempt wigs. She also took this opportunity to grab a makeup removing wipe at the same time before turning to Andy with a playful smile. "You have lipstick all over," she chuckled and proceeded to remove all traces of lipstick from his features and from her lips. All the way through, she was completely unable to take her eyes off him to the point that, the second the wipe was thrown in the trash, her arms wrapped around his shoulders again, fingers still holding the condom wrap, and lips crashed together.

"Happy birthday," she whispered between hot kisses, hips finally free to meet, holding him closer, always.

[3rensgf]

stupid/annoying, but endearing, things they do in a relationship eren, armin, jean, connie, erwin, levi, reiner, bertholdt, porco, zeke, colt, hanji, mikasa, sasha, annie, pieck

word count: 2.3k

warnings: one mention of sex in erens, reader uses makeup in jeans, mentions of injuries and dilf!reiner in reiners

notes: this is a gn!reader. there are mentions of makeup being used, but i feel like any gender can use makeup. it's not even anything serious like a beat face. just some lip gloss n mascara. chapstick too but thats not makeup. it's just one line, so you can skip over it if you would like to!

✩ eren bites you. its not even in a sexual way, he just likes to bite. they’re like a second form of kissing to him. you could be chilling together on the couch watching a movie, and he’ll just chomp on your shoulder. even when you were trying to focus on something, he swings by, bites then leaves. eren has no shame, so he does it in front of your friends too. you could be having a normal conversation with mikasa and he’ll just bite you, then the two of you carry on as if it was normal. it’s not normal. but you love it. sometimes you bite him back too. but only in private.

✩ armin gives you random things he finds. armin likes to go out and explore, with or without you. when he comes back after an adventure you opted out of, he always has something for you he found. a rock, a seashell or a cool flower are just some of the things he gets for you. if he can’t find something, he finds a gift shop to get you something instead, saying, “well, (y/n), i did find it in the gift shop.” he always looks so proud giving it to you, rambling about the story of how he found your gift. you have a small box tucked away with all the treasures he gives you.

✩ jean steals your things. whenever he comes over, he likes to mooch off your possessions. if he’s spending the night at your place and needs a shower, he’s using your shampoo, conditioner and body wash. if his lips are chapped, he swipes your lip balm to use on himself. one time you even walked in on him trying your mascara and lip gloss. another time he had your clothes on his giant frame. but he always replaces whatever he uses, venmoing you within the next few days with some cash and a sorry note. “sorry for using ur lip balm baby, buy some more <3” with $20 attached to it. you tell him that lip balm doesn’t even cost that much, but he tells you to treat yourself to lunch with the extra money.

✩ connie makes plans without letting you know beforehand. at 3am, you are woken up by an influx of messages and calls from your boyfriend. in your sleepy state you go to answer him, only to be told to get dressed and come out. he’s right outside of your house and hungry. you remind him it’s very early in the morning and you both have class. “but i’m hungry and craving burgers,” he repeats. you have no choice to get in the car with him. this can happen throughout the day, not just early in the morning. one time he whisked you away in the middle of your online class because he didn’t tell you he bought tickets to a movie showing in 30 minutes. the memories you share on these spontaneous dates are always your favorite ones with him.

✩ erwin buys you whatever you like in bulk. it’s not even an exaggeration when you say bulk. you mention one thing to him, and the next day there are boxes upon boxes sitting on your kitchen counter. “these oranges taste pretty good,” you mumble to yourself as you peel your 2nd one. erwins sharp ears hear this, and first thing in the morning he’s off to buy multiple bags of your supposed favorite oranges. it takes you days, sometimes weeks, to finish whatever he decided to buy you. you always tell him he doesn’t need to buy so much, but he never listens. though, you always appreciate how attentive he is to your likes and dislikes.

✩ levi cleans up for you and ruins your organization. it’s always a blessing when someone else decides to take on the burden of cleaning for you, and you thought you hit the jackpot with a boyfriend who loved to clean, clean, clean. but it could get annoying when you suddenly couldn’t find anything you placed anywhere. if you’re anything like me, you’re messy but organized. you know where things are. when levi comes to clean, he places things where he thinks they should go. you’re sent on a wild goose chase looking for your pencil case, only for it to be in a completely different drawer than the one you usually kept it in. despite this behavior, it’s always nice to come home from a long day from school to see your desk organized. what was once a mess of papers and other supplies have been filed into their correct places, the table wiped down from any lingering coffee stains and your supplies being organized in a way so you knew where everything was. sometimes there’d be a plate of fruit with the note, “good luck on your exams,” written in your boyfriends neat writing beside it.

✩ reiner coddles you too much. whenever you express any sort of discomfort, reiner is always rushing to your side. “are you hurt? do you need medical attention? how many fingers am i holding up?” he asks, checking you for any cuts or bruises. thank you, honey, but i’m fine. just bumped into the counter. despite that, he’s dragging you over to the bathroom to fix up your imaginary injuries. you always find it a bit much when you’re fine. it’s during the times where you’re actually hurt where you learn to appreciate it. he’s so gentle cleaning your cuts, kissing them softly once they’re dressed. you wonder if he’d be like that with your future children.

✩ bertholdt is too nervous around you. it’s been years since the two of you got together, and he still refuses to make eye contact with you. his hands get sweaty and shake when you attempt to hold his hand. he always stumbles over his words when speaking to you as he tries to find the right words to say. he even blushes when he introduces you to other people as his significant other! you remind bertholdt over and over again that he doesn’t need to be so shy around you. but you cant help but coo over him showing up for your date, flustered mess and thrusting flowers into your hand. “they reminded me of you,” he said quietly, refusing to meet your eyes. you giggle and press a kiss to his hot cheeks.

✩ porco is too cocky for his own good. he’s always parading around the house, boasting about his latest achievements. he beat colt in a video game colt was a supposed god in. he can throw a baseball farther than zeke. he can run faster than pieck. if he’s taller than you, he's always making fun of you for being shorter than him. if you’re taller, you’re not exempt from his wrath either. he’s boasting about how he’s perfect height to not hit his head on doorways. he never goes as far as to hurt your feelings, always knowing when to stop. though he has a big ego, he would let it crash and burn just to see you smile after beating him at smash bros. you laugh and taunt him, happy you beat him in one thing. he doesn’t mind, instead watching you with a soft smile on his lips and love in his eyes.

✩ zeke forces you to work out with him. and it’s not like in the afternoon to help you stretch out. it’s not light yoga or a couple minutes on the treadmill. no, this man wakes you up at ass crack in the morning to take you on a 5 mile hiking trip. you barely have any time to register what is happening around you before you’re already standing at the start of the trail with your gear. “come on! we can’t slack off!” he says, clapping his hands together. the sun is beating down on you and your feet hurt, but this man doesn’t let you stop for a break. “we’re almost there,” he says. your complaining goes out the window when he shows you the view at the top. its one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen. hiking up long ass trails to see beautiful views with your boyfriend was so worth it in the end.

✩ colt accidentally turns your dates into babysitting sessions. you show up at his house with the promise of a good time, only to be met with a guilty looking colt and his little brother falco behind him. “sorry,” he says sheepishly, “gabi got sick with the cold, so i couldn’t drop him off there. i hope you don’t mind him staying.” you hide your disappointment behind a wide smile, nodding enthusiastically as to not hurt either of their feelings. you just wanted to spend some alone time with your boyfriend, and it would have to wait. hanging out with falco wasn’t actually that bad. the three of you had an amazing time together, watching tv, playing games and even baking together. if you hate kids, you can’t bring yourself to hate falco; he’s just the sweetest boy you’ve ever met. you and falco are already asking colt when the three of you can hang out again when you have to go back home.

✩ hanji is always talking. you don’t discourage them from talking about their interests. they’re very passionate about the things they love, and can’t help talking about them. its like the scene where hanji kept eren up all night talking about titans. when you’re trying to focus on something or go to sleep, hanji is just yapping away. you’re honestly amazed at their ability to never run out of things to say about the most mundane things. hell, one time they talked for an hour and a half about a building color they saw when they were out one day. but hanji just looked so happy when talking. their face would break out into a huge grin, and their arms would fly around as they told their story. it was too cute for you to tell them to stop.

✩ mikasa hovers too much. every corner you turn, every place you go to, mikasa is following. she claims she’s not clingy, but in reality she is. it’s like a cat who hates affection, but needs to be in the same room as you at all times. you don’t mind her following you into the bedroom or living room or kitchen. you had to draw a line when she tried to follow you into the bathroom. even when you’re out, she’s always following you around. you tell her it’s okay to break off from you and spend some time by herself, but she always shakes her head and follows you to your next destination. you’re always grateful for her hovering when a group of drunk people try hitting on you, whistling and telling you they’ll give you a good time. but one look at your girlfriend who showed up from out of nowhere, and they’re running away with their tails between their legs.

✩ sasha eats your food. she can’t help it. she likes to snack. she’s always hungry. and you get that. to stop things like this from happening, you have separate places to keep your food. just so sasha and you have your favorite snacks and takeout separated. you respect the rule, but your girlfriend seems to lose her reading skills when hungry, one too many times you have walked in on her with her hand deep into a bag of your chips, something you’ve been waiting to eat all week when you were supposed to watch that new horror movie on netflix with her. you huff and puff and retreat to your bedroom. sasha comes back after a few hours, looking upset with tons and tons of snacks in her arms. “i’m sorry i ate your chips,” she frowns. she sets down all the food she got on your bed. “i got all these snacks you liked as an apology. and 3 bags of your favorite chips.” you could never stay mad at her cute face.

✩ annie complains about spending time with you. “i like my alone time,” she says, brushing you off when you asked why she didn’t want to watch a movie with you. some people were introverted, preferring to spend time by themselves rather than with someone else. you were like that too; you had your moments where you didn’t feel like being around your girlfriend. but it became an annoying problem when she constantly shot down your attempts to hang out with you. when she finally agrees, she’s always finding something to complain about. but during important dates or when you’re not in the best mood, she’s always the first to remind you or initiate a hang out/date. she shuts her mouth and enjoys her time with you, not one criticism or groan leaving her lips. she would never admit it, but being around you made her so happy.

✩ pieck is always sleeping. you have to wait a few hours to get a text or call back from pieck because she’s always dozing off somewhere. “sorry sweets,” she yawns into the mic, “was taking a nap. need something?” good luck trying to reach your girlfriend during an emergency. when you come home with takeout for dinner because neither of you wanted to cook, she’s sleeping at the dinner table. when you’re watching a movie she wanted to watch, she’s snoring away, curled up at the end of the couch. during lectures you share together, she has her head in her arms and has the audacity to ask you for your notes in the end. and it’s not like she’s not getting enough sleep, no. she gets her recommended 8 hours of sleep and then some. it’s nice to have a sleepy girlfriend, though, when you’re dead tired from living. you drag your feet into the bedroom to see her about to take her nth nap for the day. she notices your zombie-like state and opens up her arms for you. the two of you cuddle and nap together, sleeping the stress away.

taglist - @liaxxx109 , @prxttyguardian , @jeansbabycake

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3rensgf © 2021 ; do not repost or translate my work.

[forevercaroline]

This beautiful Cover done by the fabulously talented @buckybarsn

This is the first part of the chapter. It is long and packed chapter that it had to be split up. The first part everyone ie: friends and family coming in for the birthday and the second part is the birthday.

Tagging: @charliewrites99, @ceceswriting, @things-that-make-sa-happy, @crazychicke, @austennerdita2533, @misssophiachase, @karinanic, @riverdalelover2, @xoxoloverb, @dumb-bitchculture, @raaliyo, @midnight-2411

Conrad is asleep when he is awoken suddenly by a bloodcurdling scream he grabs his boxers and follows the sound of the scream. In the center of the sparkling white over million dollar closet is Caroline collapsed on the floor. Her whole body shaking, her heart beating very fast and her breathing very shallow. He falls to his knees right in front of her. It pains him to see her like this.

"What's wrong?"

She holds out a shaky finger pointing to her phone a few feet away she dropped it when she saw what was on it. "Caroline look at me. Take a deep breath."

"I…cant… my throat is too tight."

"It's going to be ok just look at me." When she does look at him like usual she gets lost in those green eyes of his. He locks eyes with her too and they begin to breathe together. Their fingers finding each other and entwining.

When Caroline's breathing has returned to normal she slumps into Conrad's arms. He bends down and leaves a sweet kiss on her forehead."What is going on?"

"I can't tell you."

He wants to know what is bothering her so much that she is having panic attacks, breaks downs in her closet, screaming in the morning, and making her tremble so much. "I'm not going anywhere, you can tell me."

Caroline has her back against him leaning into his bare chest while his arms are around her and their fingers are playing with each other. "I literally can not tell you, without having full body panic attacks. I can't even bring myself to say her name."

He tightens his arms around her and leaves a kiss on the top of her head, when she is ready he will listen. They have gotten to know each other more this past month and a half then most people ever get to know them.

They are still sitting on the floor when Caroline asks. "How did you know how to do that?"

"That last summer with my mom I had a panic attack while helping this guy named Cleveland and he taught me all these breathing techniques."

She turns her head to the side and kisses one of his arms around her. They are silent for a while just breathing and listening to each other breathe when out of nowhere she says. "Have you ever been to Spain?"

Conrad blinks that was completely out of left field although that's one of things that he likes about her she is unpredictable. "No, I've never been."

She looks at their hands her fingers are tracing the lines on his palm and his fingers are trying to touch hers. "You trust me and I trust you, we should run away to Spain, I have a friend there it's beautiful or Greece swim in the star pool what about the Maldives sleep outside above the ocean."

His fingers close over hers. "That sounds lovely but I have sailing lessons the season ends tomorrow." Caroline snuggles into his embrace she loves that not only was he here this morning but he helped her and stayed with her after. If she were with anybody else they wouldn't of even got out of bed.

"I'm sorry I woke you up."

"It's ok, are you feeling better?"

She nods.

The rest of part 1: friends and family come for the next part. More sweet moments with Caroline and Conrad.

[esoraluco]

in the meantime more spamblue info! yaayyyyy

• blue doesn't eat most of the time, outside of addison food-money; but he likes ice cream. He loves to share it with spamt as you can guess 💖 Blue's fav flavor is vanilla strawberry and spamt's... Probably something with different textures like sprinkles, since he eats to enjoy textures and taste. they probably both like ice creams with lots of chemicals too, if anything i think they would be weirded out by organic/natural stuff

• spamt actually wants to have a kid but realistically i dont think my ver of them could take care of one- esp blue who is super opposed to the idea bc he can barely manage to take care of himself. 💔💔 but who knows... maybe one day they could?

• i might already talked about it but spamt cant watch 80s-90s movies without getting upset, so instead he and blue watch 70s and older movies. They make fun of them only half of the time. they watch almost anything except horror and uncomfortably tense or strange movies, for reasons im sure you can guess for spamt; blue doesnt enjoy them either

• if you tell spamt 'WHO WAS PHONE' he explodes. tragic but true

• Blue isnt into drugs nor alcohol but i could see him vaping, to look cool exclusively. He'd like rly light flavors of vanilla and menthol (in the latter in aus where he has access to organic stuff)

• they both have issues knowing what day it is unless they have work in which case they probably do 'sales' for each day ('it's flat people friday! Now get your flat shoes with a completely flat 5% price reduction!!' (blue) 'IT'S *checks time on his phone**it's a rotary phone it doesn't tell time* [!?!#]!!! BUY IT NOW OR [Die]. CRIMINAL PRICE OF 37354;6 KROMER' (i'll let you guess who this is)'

[lrissa]

SPOILERS FOR NON MANGA READERS

trouble

summary: you never feared of levi getting hurt, until he did

warning: descriptions of violence, gore, angst

Cold, wet rain soaked through your jacket. The never ending crying from the sky leaving it’s wrath on the grassy ground below. Riding alongside Hange but with Floch’s crew you were out looking for Levi and that monkey bastard. Clinks from the horse’s hooves against the stone engraved bridge filled the silence.

Raising a hand you wiped the fresh drops of rain off your cheek and scanned the surroundings. It was odd of Levi to not return, assuming the worst you swallowed the pit in your stomach and pursued forwards.

From a distance, an echo from a bomb crossed your ears. Your head whipped to the explosion with widened eyes, although, you couldn’t see any damage from your position.

“What was that...?” Floch asks

“Maybe lighting?” Responds a cadet

Taking the reigns of your horse you turned to the sound, “That was a thunder spear.” You corrected and gazed at Hange, you could tell she was thinking of a possible explanation.

“If we head to the sound we can find something.” A cadet proposed, its horse walking beside yours and Hange’s. Hange tore their gaze from the explosion and looked between the two of you before nodding their head in agreement.

You were quick to respond and smacked the reigns, the horse beginning it’s gallop to the sound.

Before long Hange rode up beside your horse in sync, pulling their hood down a bit before sparing you a look. “Y/N, there is a possibility it could be Levi—“

Shaking your head you cut them off, “I know, I know... That’s why we need to get there.” You replied in a hushed tone, lowering your head away from them. Your care and concern for Levi never went unnoticed by Hange.

“Of course, we’ll get there.” They nodded and gave you a small grin, you returned the gesture with a tiny smile.

Not before long, the group of cadets came across a cart and two mutilated horses. The horses appeared to have suffered a sad fate. Wood planks and sharp stakes were sunk into their skin with blood and dirt coating their fur. Surrounding the site were other pieces of the broken cart and parts of legs and arms littered with pools of blood.

“Wh— What... happened here!?” Floch asked aloud

Ahead there was a titan laying on its stomach, steam oozing from its body into the air. You gripped the reigns and pulled back, halting the horse from advancing.

“Be careful! Titan ahead!”

“There’s body parts everywhere!”

That made your blood run cold, where was Levi? Was he okay? Was that his leg?

“Commander Hange! L/N! You need to stay still!” Ordered a cadet

Eyes surveying the land by the river you came across a green coat with the survey corps emblem, orders went to the wind and you smacked the reigns. Galloping over before jumping off, nearly slipping from the wet grass. “Man Down!”

You slid to your knees beside the body, bringing it to your lap for support. Gently, you placed a hand behind its head and tilted it forwards. The haircut was strikingly familiar to Levi’s, fear clutched your chest as you shakily revealed the identity.

“...Levi..?”

He had small pieces of wood stuck in his cheeks and temple. Blood and soot stained his face and streamed down his pale face. There was an obvious cut reaching from his forehead to his chin, dirt was deep into the wound, likely to be infected soon. He was in such horrible condition, your fingers shook as they rubbed across his rain-soaked cheek to collect filth.

Your other hand went to find a pulse, biting down onto your lip to stop the cry trembling on your lips. Thankfully, there was a faint pulse.

Tenderly you brought him to your chest, clutching onto him with shaky arms. Grief and relief flourished inside your chest, strangling your heart causing a constant sinking feeling.

“Levi... don’t leave me yet.” You muttered into his hair, placing a soft kiss on top of his head. Tears stung behind your eyes, desperately wanting to fall.

Soon the rest came from behind, Hange crouched down beside you and set a hand on your shoulder, rubbing it to calm you down.

“I don’t know what happened here, but... we got lucky. Our biggest threat covered in his own blood.”

Your eyes tightly shut and tightened your hold on the faint man clutched to your chest.

“I’ll send a shot through his head.” A cadet spoke, hoisting a shotgun up and cocking it.

Hange clenched their jaw and shook their head, “He’s Dead.”

“I saw something similar in a training accident. His organs are in even worse shape than how he looks. He died immediately.”

Floch stared down at the three, shifting the gun in his grip as if it was a warning.

“I know how to take a pulse. Let me see him.” He commanded

You held onto Levi tighter, no movement from your end. Floch sighed and began to walk forwards to rip him away from you.

“Floch! Somethings strange about that titan!” A cadet yelled

You looked up and at the titan, steam was being sucked into it at an alarming speed. The sky above seemed to clear as it continued to steal the steam from the air.

“Is it disappearing?! Did it die?” Floch wondered aloud

“No...” Whispered Hange “They don’t normally suck steam into themselves when they disappear.”

A laying figure began to stand, its skin was pale and almost perfect. There were no scars, cuts, or blemishes anywhere to be seen.

You saw the hint of blonde hair and let out a soft gasp, of course Zeke is alive, and completely naked.

Your eyes widened in fear and Hange looked back at you, tilting her head to the river. You nodded subtly and tightened your grip on Levi.

Hange jumped in and you shortly after with Levi. Cold water met your skin like a hard painful slap to the face. You heard loud shouts from afar but they were distant now. Floating to the surface you let out a deep breath, gasping for air and instantly looking to Levi.

A hand grabbed your arm and you gasped, head snapping to the owner.

“Hange..” You choked out, water still lingering in your lungs. They gave you a weak grin and helped you heave Levi out before grabbing your hand and lifting you from the water.

“Come on, they’re close. Find something to cover his face.” You nodded and looped your arms under Levi’s arms. Using your strength to hoist him up and into the forest, for being short he was considerably heavy.

Setting him on the ground gently your eyes glazed over his face. You felt tears re-emerge, ignoring them you took out the wood pieces stuck in his face. Planting a hand to his cheek you rubbed your thumb softly, a tear rolling down your cheek.

“I know you’re there, Levi.” Leaning down you planted a tender kiss to his forehead, slowly pulling away and undoing the coat around his neck. Instead wrapping it around his head and tying a knot to secure it.

You heard a gunshot and shot up, stumbling to the edge of the forest were Hange was. They held a rifle, lining it up at the advancing person and shooting. Hange lowered the gun and wiped something from their cheek.

“Hange,” You walked to them and planted a hand on their shoulder, giving it a squeeze of reassurance to lighten their mood. “Levi will be fine, he’s not one to die so easily.” You spoke softly, attempting to calm them and yourself.

Hange nodded, “And surely not by the monkey.”

Walking back to Levi you stood on either side of him. “Levi.. There’s no one pursuing us now.” Hange sighed.

The two of you trudge, carrying Levi between the two of you until you found an abandoned camp. Levi was laying on a white sheet as Hange worked on disinfecting and stitching the deep wound across his face. You sat on the other end of the bed, your knees brought close to your chest for comfort.

Hange was speaking but you reached out and looked under the thin sheet to find Levi’s hand, grabbing it with gentleness and holding it.

Hours passed and you were still sat beside Levi, clutching his hand while Hange was ahead assembling a broken cart.

Then suddenly, you were sitting in sand. Your eyes shot open and around you was nothing but small sand hills and behind you a bright blue almost resembling a lighting strike that stretched to the sky and broke apart like veins.

And you were back to normal just as fast, blinking you hadn’t noticed the weight lifted from your hand and Hange yelling something.

“The beast.... that piece of shit.. where is he?”

“Levi!” You spoke loudly, he lightly cringed at your vocalness, whispering a soft apology before grabbing his shoulder and easing him back down onto the sheets. “Don’t get up.”

“Zeke left to the Shiganshina district with the Yeagerists, half a day has passed.... What happened?” Hange questions

“I screwed up. I wasn’t able to... figure out that he was ready to die.. I let him, get away again.” Levi explained before shutting his eyes and resting his head on the pillow, bringing his injured hand up that was missing his pointer and middle fingers.

“I know you want revenge, but for now...” You started

“If we keep running and hiding what will that get us?” Levi retorts

Hange and you remain silent as he sighs.

“Hange, I know you’re not able to stay out of the action” Levi comments as he peels his eyes open again.

“Yeah, that’s right. I cant.”

She gets up at that and returns to the cart, grabbing the hammer and nailing in a new screw.

It was silent between you and Levi, his eyes shifted to the sky then to you. Mindlessly noting the drowsiness glazing your eyes and circles under your eyes.

“Y/N, you worry about me too much.” Levi comments. Your head turns to him in surprise, “What do you mean?” Levi sighs “It doesn’t take an idiot to notice you haven’t slept.” “Oh.”

You look away from him, shaking your head. “I wanted to be there when you woke.”

Levi tore his gaze from you and let his eyelids close. You let out a breath of air and leaned over Levi, giving him a delicate kiss on his bandaged forehead before standing.

“Get some rest Levi.”

“Come back.”

You halted in your exit and began to retrace your steps back to him, towering above him as he looked up at you expectantly.

“Lay down.” He ordered and you stared back at him, hesitantly you lowered yourself to the ground and crouched there for a moment. You were testing his boundaries, unsure if he’d yell at you to scoot away from him.

He was beginning to become impatient, grabbing your wrist and tugging you closer to him. You were shoulder to shoulder with him, releasing your wrist he let his eyes shut once again. An intense feeling bloomed in your chest, blush creeping up to your features.

“It’s cold out here and four eyes didn’t give me very comfortable sheets.”

“I see, goodnight Levi.”

lol i haven’t wrote in forever i’m sorry this was bad

also new theme sort of

[gaiuswrites]

King of Cups || Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Five of Pentacles

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | one

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: Still reeling from the attack on Jortho, you begin your journey to scower the systems for galactic aid. The Mandalorian takes you aboard his ship temporarily, agreeing to shuttle you to your next destination. You both figure your tenure on the Razor Crest will be short lived... But you've been wrong before.

Word count: 3.8k~

Rating: Mature

Warnings: blood/gore, minor character death (mentioning), mature themes/language, vomiting

Notes: Hi friends. Here we go. Chapter 2... The last paragraph is marked with ///|||///, denoting a change to Mando's POV— his pov will be cropping up now and again, and I have a tendency to play with the timeline/tenses when it does. Enjoy x

You have to think about it. Genuinely.

It takes longer than you’d like to admit, with the Mandalorian looking down at you expectantly, a gloved hand slotted against his belt—postured and waiting.

‘Do you have a way off this skug hole?’

You open your mouth, but no words come out. It snaps closed. You swallow, but the action provides no relief. Your tongue feels too big for the small space it’s trapped in; too swollen, too dust logged— like you could choke on it, if you really tried. Finally, a single syllable frees itself, the weight of it plummeting through your ribs, ricocheting off the bones until it lands in your stomach with a dull, sinking splash.

“No.”

He doesn’t move.

“Do you need to get anything?”

You shake your head, small at first, phantom movements, before stringing together a sentence. “N-No. It’s all gone. Everything I had- it all went up on the shuttle-“

Oh gods, the shuttles.

Your heart seizes, a cold hand like a vice, gripping the bloody organ. You feel green; sickly chartreuse slithering it’s way up your esophagus, poisoning your soft palate. There were pilots on board when the ships blew. Two on each one. That’s four— four people. You knew their names. Knew their home planets. Knew about their families. One had a kid. Fuck. That’s four dead, and you didn’t even think of them— Maker, how could you not have thought about them?— No, fuck, fuck fuck-

It didn’t before but it’s hitting you now, stabbing you right between the eyes, the image of their bodies disintegrating in the blast wave, charring up like coal and carbon. You breathed them in, you realize. Their corpses coat your lungs.

The thought is all it takes.

Your feet move on instinct, scrambling to the side of his gunship where you vomit, bracing yourself against the riveted siding as you hack and sputter, wretching bile and what little broth you’d had for supper to splatter onto the cracked earth. Mercifully you’re hidden enough around the corner that you don’t think the bounty hunter sees, and if he does, he has the curtesy not to say anything.

What a gentleman, you think dryly, wiping your mouth with your sleeve.

You pant, body beyond spent, chest heaving as you press your scratched palm into the durasteel, the cool metal soothing it’s sting. Moments stretch like this— you doubled over, catching your breath— before you stumble back into view, graceless and encumbered, as if you didn’t just casually throw up down the front of yourself. You stand below him at the bottom of the ramp. He’s still there, a fixed point. Steel boots welded into the steel ramp.

“Uhm, are you-“

You cough, and it’s an ugly, hoarse sound; your throat burns, roughened and raw around the edges, and your nerves are too strung out for polite colloquialisms. You don’t have the energy to play coy and tip toe around the question. You’re fucking tired.

You try again.

“Are you offering me a ride?”

And now it’s his turn to hesitate, almost like he didn’t fully think the proposition through— as if it’s all just dawning on him now.

The Mandalorian didn’t strike you as someone who familiarized himself with answering to anyone— or picking up hitchhikers, for that matter— even if the offer was his to begin with... That was what he was doing, wasn’t it? Those words in that order? He meant to give you transport off planet? He wasn’t just… making conversation? Did Mandalorians even do that? Maker, if you’ve read this whole situation wrong, no small thanks to a laser-brain full of mush, you reckon you’d die from embarrassment on the spot where you stood, splotched with soot and puke and blood.

You think he’s going to tell you to shove off— you see his hand balling into a fist at his side— and close the ramp right then and there. Be rid of you. Sluffed, like a flea from a dog.

But he doesn’t. He surprises you both.

“Yes.”

Oh. Oh. Kriff, okay. Think think think-

Your mind reels and you’re rambling now, words ending and beginning in the same breath— steamrolling over yourself.

“Okay, I-I need to go back in to town, just for a—I cant let them think I’m just leaving them like this... Is that okay? I’m sorry, I won’t take long, I promise, I just— they need to know I’m getting help. Is that- uhm, can you wait? Can you wait for me?”

There’s another unreadable pause that makes you want to bury your head in the cold, fallow soil.

The man is looking at you like you’ve grown another kriffing leg, but eventually he grumbles out a noise that sounds like an affirmative, turning on his heel, and disappears into the belly of the ship— leaving you there alone.

Alone.

Pin pricks needle at the nape of your neck and the hair down your arm stands on end.

Alone.

You’re alone for the first time since the attack and suddenly you feel half your size and shrinking smaller still, like atoms collapsing and folding in on themselves until they dematerialize completely—and you along with them. You tell yourself to breath. To fight the bubbles of panic as they burst and pop, dimpling you from the inside out. Breath. Focus, he said. Focus.

You shift your weight from foot to foot, gnawing at the inside of your cheek.

The Mandalorian never reemerges.

Well… you guess that was your cue.

///

Staggering back into Jortho is like sleepwalking through a nightmare.

The smoke from the bombing has completely engulfed the lower atmosphere, doming the town in a thick canopy; the sky is blackened, starless, and the moons hover noncommittally like mere suggestions in the dark canvas.

Half the town had been decimated to rubble, and the other half was covered in the shockwave of it’s explosion— caked in grime, windows knocked out, doors splintered open. You almost expected the pieces to have reversed themselves back up, like you’ve seen in holovid special effects—homes rebuilding, fires dousing themselves, air purifying itself from the smog… but they don’t. They remain in shambles.

Time has granted you the unforgiving gift of clarity, and it’s one you’d rather not have been given. You don’t want to see the aftermath without the saccharine filter of shock to cushion you. The town is just as you left it, but somehow worse— worse because you can hear the crying, now. The wailing. You didn’t before with the blood pumping in your ears, deafening you, but you do now. The woeful noises that reverberate over the crackling embers still smoldering, the muffled sobs being choked down behind fractured walls.

Tripping over stray debris, you find Hareem close to where you’d left her, her fuse short hair grey with ash. The blood you smeared from her cheek still clouds her skin there, staining it as it does your fingers that wiped it. She wobbles to her feet and meets you in the middle of the road.

Neither of you speak, not at first. You hold onto her shoulders, and like a pillar of salt, you quake.

You try explaining to her that the communication’s system on your transport freighter had been blown up alongside the town, that you’ve accepted a ride from the bounty hunter and that you’re getting off world to contact the RRM headquarters, that you’d stay if you could but you can’t and you need to call for assistance, for help. You try to tell her that you’d do anything— travel through dimensions, if you could, to undo all of this chaos— if the laws of time allowed it.

You want to go back and pretend today never happened. To unlearn the tremor in your hands as they grip her frame. To unlearn all of this. To unknow. But,

you can’t.

All you can do is move forward. Do the next right thing. Take the next right step.

You’ve explained yourself in circles but it still doesn’t feel like enough. The words feel shallow, like slapping some bacta on a severed limb, and guilt rips through you— your voice torn with it.

“But how can I leave now?” you ask helplessly, eyes skittering around you. “After all- all of this?”

Hareem finds your hands, her spindled fingers encasing your own. A crease engraves her forehead, little lines clustering around her eyes. “You’ve done enough, hm? You go now. Go with that Mandalorian. You can’t shoulder this alone.”

“Har-“

She doesn’t let you say it. The older woman soothes a thumb into the web between your knuckles.

“Make contact. Comm for aid. It will come, but it won’t if you stay here.”

Your shoulders release with a defeated sigh. You know the Balosar’s right— you’re the one who’s told her as much. That’s RRM protocol. In case of emergency, you were to comm in and reconvene with the closest branch to your system to send additional supplies and volunteers to the camp. You know this better than anyone here, and yet this woman, this refugee, was the one aping your mission back to you.

She’s firm. Kind. “You’re just one person.”

Briefly, you wonder if she’s a parent. You think her child would be lucky to have her as their mother-- all of her somber strength. You think you would have been lucky, too.

Maybe things would be different—maybe you’d be different.

You gather yourself, piece by piece, and give her knobby hand a squeeze. You bore into her, determined and unwavering. You need her to understand. “I’m not abandoning you—any of you. I need you to know that, okay? I’m not leaving you alone in this.”

She smiles. It doesn’t reach her eyes.

“I know, my friend,” Hareem says plainly, a sad sort of resolve quieting her tone. She has no fight left, nothing left to give— as empty as her pockets, lint lined and turned out. Barren. “I know.”

///

You weave your way back to the ship, feet padding across the arid landscape. You don’t blink, not even once, eyes crusted open and gaping. You barely remember the trek but somehow you’ve managed it, treading up the ramp, the thuds sounding hollow and foreign to your ear.

“I’m not a taxi service.”

You nearly jump out of your skin.

“Maker almighty,” you gasp, hand coming up to clutch your canary heart, beating fast and frantic. He’s just standing there, waiting, the dimmed lights of the hull glinting off his beskar. It’d only been a few hours, but you had already somehow forgotten how kriffing imposing he was, how ominous. A vacuum in space.

“O-Okay,” you stutter, a twitch in your brow.

“I’ll get you as far as you need to go, but on my terms. I’m not making a special trip— can’t promise you when.”

You nod. You’re not sure what to say. Lamed, all you can do is repeat yourself.

“… Okay.”

“What sector?”

“Bajic,” you start, fiddling with a loose thread poking from your sleeve. “We- uhm, the RRM, we have a branch there, but then—” your throat bobs as you swallow your words, and he gives you an exacting look, tilting his helm subtly. There was no getting around it.

You’re pinned.

“Coruscant. I’ll need to get to Coruscant,” you finish quietly.

Did you just hear him ‘tsk’ under that metal bucket?

“It’ll take a while to get to the Core. Longer than you’d like.”

And here you go, babbling again before you can stop yourself, throwing up defenses, excuses— back pedaling. You’re earnest, and it’s dripping from you. “Listen, if this is too much, I get it. You don’t owe me anything. Really— you don’t have to take me anywhere you don’t want. I-I, honestly, I’m just grateful you even considered it.”

Silence. An endless sea of silence.

No current, no breeze. It feels like you’re stranded in dead water, drowning in it. Again, you hang there on bated breath, just waiting for the man to chuck you from his ship. Not worth the effort. Not worth the fuel.

And again, he surprises you.

He tips his chin, gesturing to the side. “Fresher’s that way. We’ll be up in five.”

You exhale, visibly relieved, and mumble a thank you before shuffling off in the direction he motioned towards. You get one foot through the door before you hear him.

“Dala,”

Your attention snaps to the Mandalorian. There’s that word again—you think he’s called you that before—but there’s something different in his voice now, a lilt you’d not yet heard from him. What is that? Nerves?

“There is… one more thing.”

You cock your head just as a gargled coo comes from somewhere behind him.

///

You look like bantha shit.

Which, considering the events of your evening, should probably go without saying— and yet, the woman staring back at you in the small refresher mirror still manages to startle you.

You’re covered in dirt and cinders and contusions you hadn’t had the luxury to notice before. With the adrenaline retreated from your veins, you finally feel the full scope of your injuries and Maker do they hurt. Your tunic is torn at the collar and the fabric is discolored, pants and boots scuffed and ashen. Your bottom lip is swollen, a split running down the side of it, the seam of which is cracked with dry blood. Your palms are scratched— knuckles, too. There are narrow licks from shrapnel bites nicking your forearm. Twisting your body, you discover a dark bruise already blooming on your shoulder from the initial impact of the blast. You’re stiff and achy all over, and you can practically hear your bones creak and groan with each strained movement.

You turn on the faucet and begin to bend forward before you wince, a sharp pain gripping your skull. Ginger fingers come up to touch the back of your head, patting around tentatively until you find a raised bump and something viscous wetting the strands of your hair. You pull your hand back, inspecting it— more blood, glistening black under the low light.

Your eyes flit back up to your reflection.

You should be scared at this point, you guess. Worried, at the very least, by all of this—by the gore of it, the cuts and marks. But it’s your eyes that frighten you most— they’re hard. Devoid. You don’t recognize them. You’re a stranger.

You blink. She blinks back.

Rust red water eddies in the basin of the sink as you scrub yourself clean. You let out a hiss as the cold stream hits your skin. You count your breaths.

///

Being anywhere on board his ship without the Mandalorian feels wrong. Unnatural. Like you’re a tourist, out of place.

Unsure of where else to go, you find yourself in the cockpit with the bounty hunter, sitting in the seat beside him. Glancing over the knobs and dials and pulsing displays, your focus drifts in and out, posture slumping, lids growing heavy, darkening around the edges of your vision, blurring—

“Try to stay awake.”

With a sharp inhale, your eyes snap open, blinking wildly, and you scoot your hips up higher into the seat. You shoot the back of his helmet an inquisitive look you’re not sure he sees, but he responds to it all the same.

“Could have a concussion.”

“Didn’t know you were a doctor,” you reply, tone low and rolling. Maker above, apparently the final stage of shock was sarcasm. The fact that you thought it wise to damn near sass a Mandalorian on his own ship after he saved your kriffing life...

Stars, maybe it really was a concussion. Brain damage. Had to be.

He doesn’t acknowledge the quip, which you can’t readily blame him for. A quiet beat, red buttons flickering against the dark of the cockpit, and then—

“There’s bacta in the medpack. Might not be much left.”

You’re wide awake now.

Your rebuttal is immediate, bristled even, words escaping before you have a chance to even consider his suggestion. “No— no, thank you, but I’m not taking the last of your supplies. I’ll be fine, you’re- you’re doing enough for me already.” He graces you with another of his grunts, a hush following closely behind it.

Your gaze wanders—it wanders onto him, and you watch him.

Watch as the stars dance across his armor, incandescent and shimmering. Hypnotic, even. Something you hadn’t noticed before catches your eye, and you have to crane your neck to get a good look at it. It’s hard to make out, but you think there’s a symbol on the pauldron adorning his shoulder. You can’t imagine it’s completely cosmetic, seeing as the hem of his cape is frayed and worn (and the fact that being a lethal hunter didn’t really scream ‘needless decoration’), but maybe, if you work up the courage somewhere between here and Coruscant, you’ll ask him about it.

His posture is carved out of stone and he sits like a statue, spine rigid under all that beskar. Fleetingly, you wonder if it’s heavy, if it’s uncomfortable—to carry it with him wherever he goes. But you suppose he’s grown accustom to the weight, wearing it like a second skin.

He’s broad too, you note. Of course he is, you recognized that straight off, but inside the confines of the ship, without the towering Lothal sky as his backdrop, it truly strikes you just how large the Mandalorian is. He engulfs the space around him. Devours it.

You stay like this, entranced, studying the man properly for the first time, allowing the muscles behind your tired eyes to relax on him— until his visor notches up quickly and meets your line of sight in the mirrored pane of the window, catching you in the act.

Kriff.

You avert your eyes, an embarrassed warmth crawling up your neck, suddenly finding a particular panel soldered to the wall incredibly interesting— looking anywhere else but at the faceless stranger you’re saddled with.

The kid gurgles, interrupting the awkwardness, and you’ve never been more grateful for a three pronged toddler in your life.

He’s sitting in the copilot’s seat opposite you, as if the tiny thing is navigating for the Mandalorian, and he’s completely dwarfed by the massive chair. Everything about him juxtaposes the other man. He’s all brown robes and wispy peach fuzz, and he looks almost comically out of place against the interior of the gunship. He’s playing with a shiny metal ball in his lap, and with one small arm, he extends it to you like a gift.

Out of the two of them, the child was a one man welcoming party.

“Is this for me?”

He gives a soft patuu, and your heart nearly bursts. You take it from him gently, and the little guy coos through a babbling grin, cheeks round and impish. “Thank you,” you tell him, all serious-like, and you have to actively suppress the squeal that threatens to break free from you. He glances to the Mandalorian with such a look in those big eyes; its hard to make out, but you think its something close to pride or satisfaction, maybe: Look dad, I shared my toy.

Kriff, this kid is cute. Like, dangerously cute.

You both take each other in like this; your micro expressions, his pruned little forehead, your fleshy form, all soft lines and angles. You’re sure you look just as strange to him and he does to you, especially given the only other lifeform on board he has as reference is coated from head to toe in metal. The child’s gaze snags on a lock of your hair, little teeth peeking through his mouth, eyes glued to it like a metronome as it dangles. You give your head a little shake, strands waving, and he giggles. You skip the ball over the hills of your knuckles, dazzling him momentarily.

“Does he have a name?” You ask, his eyes like black saucers peering curiously at you, and you give him back his toy— an offer he eagerly accepts.

“No.”

“So what do you call him then?”

“Just ‘kid’.”

A beat. “... Do you have a name?”

“Mando.”

“Just ‘Mando’?”

“This is the Way.”

You nod, worrying your cheek absentmindedly as you stare out the transparisteel. This is the Way. You’re not entirely sure what the phrase meant, but you know respect when you hear it— how reverent it sits on his vocal chords— and by the manner of which the man, this Mando, spoke, you can tell there’s more to those words than you know.

And you can appreciate his desire for anonymity; it doesn’t bother you much—you figure you won't be around long enough for it to matter anyways. You don’t know a lot about the Mandalorian people, but you have heard rumors. Everyone had. That’s all they were anymore: rumors and stories. Legends. Just seeing one was rare, and talking to one even rarer. But flying with one and his adorable, green baby? It was… definitely unique, to say the least.

You share more dulled quiet. And although the silence isn’t entirely uncomfortable now—you’re settling in to it— it’s not exactly desirable either, but it doesn’t matter because it doesn’t last.

Mando clears his throat, breaking the white noise that’s blanketed the three of them. He doesn’t turn his helmet. He keeps his focus straight ahead. You watch his reflection in the ship’s window and you can’t know for certain, but you think you feel your eyes brush against his, if only for a moment. A unintelligible noise filters through his modulator.

“Do you?”

You grin, a slow smile tugging at your lips.

“Last I checked.”

It’s the first smile he draws from you. The first of many.

///

Despite Mando’s warnings and better judgement, sleeping is exactly what you end up doing. You pass out, hard, stirring only once when an errant beep sounds through the cockpit. You’d fallen asleep right there in the chair, chin tucked into your chest, hair fanned across your cheek, arms wrapped around your waist in a measly attempt to trap your body heat to you. You’ve woken to find the cockpit empty— the ship must be on autopilot, you think— and by the illuminating glow of hyperspace, you spot his medkit, sitting open on the seat across from you and in it, nestled among old wrappings and gauze, a single patch of bacta.

///|||///

That smile.

Din remembers this moment, much later, holding it like a photo in a locket. Private. Secret. He keeps you there, gold plated on a chain, to loop around his memory.

Encircling him. Strangling him.

[agayconcept]

hey, i really hope this doesnt come off the wrong way but you need to take a step back and reprioritise your costs. the people in your doctors office are the biggest assholes in the world but you shouldnt be using money on legal fees to go after them if it means you cant afford your rent.

actually, those funds are kept completely seperate, and i'm not intending to use any of it on some stupid lawsuit. i am however going to have to pay legal fees to have a legal representative advocate for me and my rights with this doctors office. because i cannot just up and leave 'the biggest assholes' there just bc it's financially inconvenient. because this office has 4 referrals in progress for me, a disability application in the works, and have all my records - some of which have not been completed/updated yet. and they are deliberately dragging their feet on all of the above.

so if i 'just don't bother' as you're suggesting, i would have to leave and i'd lose all those referrals and have to start completely over with a new office- which the wait list for is over a year. i would also have to completely restart the 3-6 month process for my disability application- which is the main financial reason i struggle with rent costs! because i'm not on disability and need to be! because i keep being discriminated against even outside this drs office.

(on a less important note, i would also have to wait until they finish updating my records before i can even register with another dr bc they wont have any correct/up to date info on them)

hence why i HAVE to continue dealing with/through this office even though i desperately dont want to - which means i have to have advocation, support and legal knowlege- which comes from a legal rep / organization / charity (which only provide free advice, you do still have to pay them to Do Anything). it is NOT something i can do by myself. cool for you (genuinely, no sarcasm intended) if you're able to get your rights respected or have the privilege to simply say fuck it and walk away- i do not. many people do not.

i think you may have misunderstood my intentions and reality here - this is not a situation where the abuse has happened, its over and im out, and therefore it is not worth legal hassle after the fact. this is an Ongoing Situation where i am TRAPPED dealing with this until i can get what i need (records, referrals, disability application) that is legally owed to me and is my right, but is instead being witheld.

so your suggestion, going with that, would be to either abandon or put off any and all healthcare progress (and my human rights, nbd) to instead pay my rent....which is something that, worst case scenario, i cannot be evicted for immediately. there is a grace period, its in the lease. they have to give us x amount of time, or offer us the option to split the payment. they only have to provide/allow that one time, but i havent used it yet so this could be that one time if i have to. (hence my notes earlier mentioning that the new building management seeming nice so hopefully they wouldn't be fussy abt it and would give us some time - bc as ppl on the internet often forget: my mother pays half the rent. i am not totally on my own here on that at least.)

look, i get that you may have had good intentions, but don't come into a situation you don't know the details and nuances of, and tell someone what to do with their money- especially when they're using it to protect their basic human rights. i didnt ask for anyone's financial or legal advice - so idk why you felt it was wanted, needed, or necessary.

like. you dont know the whole situation, i have (obvi) not shared all the details w strangers on the internet. you cant play financial advisor to a random person whose life you don't understand. idk why ppl think they can/should, rly.

anyway, genuinely for anyone on here: if it bothers you that much that my financial situation is incredibly complicated & messy due to a myriad of reasons, and that my scraping / surviving by might not be in the exact same personal fashion you would choose yourself?

you can ignore it or unfollow me, thats all good n cool.

if that wasnt your intention, and it just came across that way, then apologies for being short, and i hope the above explanation clears up the reasoning as to why i do, in fact, need to do certain things that i'm doing.

(for future reference: anons like these will be blocked. the only reason this one wasnt was because i knew it could have been a misunderstanding. but if it isnt, and anyone decides to send stuff like this, welp, its time for my best friend the block button to come hang out)

[oh-for-fic-sake]

What will daddy Henry do if his little is sad because someone took something valuable from her?

So i wanst sure what to base this on entirely, so I'm going to go with something I went through over the last few weeks. I had a little bit of anon hate, which I deleted but the words stuck with me making me second guess everything i was working on and the confidence i had in my writing was taken away. so this is like a shameful self indulgent fantasy that im going to read to myself when ever im down.

Warnings: Pretty Personal For Me, Angsty, Fluffy, Self Doubt, Happy Ending, DDLG, Long!!

Tagging: @viking-raider @isitmine @tinabean37 @loserrlauraa  @msblkfire84 @henrythickcavill @plainbrunettelbl @dummiesshort @cynic-spirit @pandaxnienke  @two-unbeatable-beaters @libbymouse @wolfieash @eldarwen333 @princesssterek @mom2000aggie @blackestpinkworld 

(not sure who to tag in headcannons? these are the ones on my everything taglist)

Henry watched quietly with a frown as you sat down in the living room, eyes cast down at the tablet in front of you shoulders slumped.

"poppet what's wrong love?"

"n-nothing da-addy" you said with a small stutter

Henry shifted on his feet looking at you critically before coming over to you.

"nothing? So your sitting here almost in tears over nothing" he stated sceptically rounding the sofa sitting next to you.

"I'm not cryin" you sniffled trying to bite your lower lip to stop it from wobbling.

"not yet, but close enough poppet, hand it over" he said holding out his hand waiting for the tablet.

You whined not wanting to hand it to him at first but after a mini battle of wills you placed the colourful tablet in his hand.

Your head was cast down and you rubbed your eyes trying to catch the tears before they were noticeable.

"okay then, so this is your new story?" he asked scrolling through the page not reading it all but scanning the words, it was well written like always.

At the beginning of the pandemic he suggested you started a blog, and you had. A writing blog all full of fanfictions of... Him.

He didn't mind he actually love you doing something constructive, it kept you happy and busy which helped him because there wasn't many free days even in lockdown. He was working out, reading scripts or rearranging covid tests and travel.

Plus knew these smut blogs existed, even lurked on a few.

"y-yeah" you mumbled leaning on him hugging his arm scanning the page as he scrolled, you knew he wasn't reading everything maybe every few lines

"sooo what's the problem?" he said not finding an issue with the writing.

"i... I cant post it" you muttered looking down avoiding his gaze

"why?" he asked frowning not liking the defeated tone you had.

"j-just because..."

"ah I see, you have lost your confidence" he said quickly figuring out the problem, the downside to writing was everything was personal preference so tiny comments could knock your confidence.

In a way it was like his work, you put your heart and soul into it and then people don't like it? It was always a bummer. But he was used to it, you were not.

You nodded to him it was true you'd lost your confidence, you hadn't wrote for a while.

You couldn't seem to find the words to fit together anymore.

You felt silly, they were just a few mean comments, words from a nasty troll who didn't have anything better to do but it hurt, you poured your heart into every chapter and then for people to rip it to shreds? It stung.

"y-yes I... They didn't like it" you hummed fiddling with your fingers, drawing deep breaths trying not to cry

"and so what?" he said shrugging making you snap your gaze to him.

"wha?"

"it doesn't matter love, so a few people didn't like it, lots of people do, I love your stories"

"you have to your my daddy"

Henry huffed and shook his head at you ruffling your hair pressing a kiss to your head amused that you thought that's the only reason he liked your writing.

"don't stop writing just because of a few mean people nugget, it takes a lot of skill to write and a lot of bravery to share it. Your a brave talented little baby and I'm very proud of you"

He said cooing as that seemed to be the final push sending you over the edge making you burst out into tears.

He hugged you moving the tablet out of the way before pulling you to his lap, unbuttoning his shirt half way and squished you into his bare chest knowing you needed to feel him, not a shirt.

"shh its okay babygirl, your stories are wonderful, and you have fun writing them don't you baby?"

You nodded crying harder trying to get the words out but you just couldn't instead whining incoherently into him.

"and you enjoy making the little banners? And collect all your photos and gifs?"

"y-yeah but they di-dn't like it last time!"

"they don't have to like everything you do sweety"

"but I don't wana upset them!"

"did you do the warnings?" he asked knowing all about the do's and don'ts of posting your erotica.

You nodded whining you always did warnings on stuff to be safe.

"and make the little cut thingy you were telling me about?" again you nodded at him

"so your telling me they read the warnings, clicked to see it and then were mean?" you sniffled biting your lip trying to calm down but nodded to him humming quietly.

"well then it sounds to me like they were going out of their way, looking for someone to pick on" he said slowly rocking you slightly.

You fell quiet resting your head on his chest as he rubbed your back and patted your bottom soothing you.

"but what if they wasn't? What if my stories are bad- and encourage bad stuff!" you cried tucking yourself into him tighter.

"no-no you repeat after me, fiction is fiction" he said pulling you back wiping your tears waiting for you to say it out loud.

"fic-tion is f-fiction" you repeated

"I did everything I could to warn people"

"I-I did everyth-ing I could to w-warn people" he smiled at you as you drew a huge breath calming yourself down.

"and they are jealous because I'm an adorable, smart, funny kind and caring babygirl who has the cutest little peach butt in the world~" he said smirking at you from above holding you tightly to him pressing a kiss to your head.

"and they- daddy! Noo! I can't say that~" you gasped flushing as you realised what he had said

"oh yes you can because its the truth now come here let daddy bite that peach~" he growled playfully snapping his jaws at you.

"ah-no!" you screeched giggleing as he began tickling you all over wrestling you playfully trying to lean over and bite your but through your shorts.

He landed two solid bite's on your bottom before pulling back. Even though he had cheered you up he could see you were still doubting yourself.

Henry cast a glance to the tablet and smirked forming a plan that might just get you back on track. He was not going to let anyone steal your sparkle.

"come on you you've spent enough time writing go play in the garden with Kal"

Once you left henry got to work swiping up the tablet and going on your one drive seeing the meticulously organized notebooks, recognising a few by name.

A few weeks later Henry came in to the living room with a medium size box and plopped it on the sofa next to you.

"here we go nugget!" he said placing the gift next to you, they couldn't have come quickly enough, he had noticed you hadn't been writing at all, which upset him because he knew how much you loved it.

"what's that daddy?" you asked peering over the box not expecting any gifts.

"why don't you open it and find out?" he said sitting the other side of the box handing you a pair of scissors to slice the tape.

You moved slowly cutting it open and pulled the box open then froze.

"d-daddy? What thats my..." you trailed off pulling out the hard back books your banner on the front cover.

"your stories? Yes poppet, I realised that you were putting so much work into these things but could loose them, they are soo good that daddy wanted to read them over and over and now we can!" he said pleased with himself as you sat there shocked looking at the small collection of a5 books.

"but their- i dont..." you said happy but completely shocked, flicking through the pages, there were even a few comments in the margins from henry pointing out the pits he liked making your heart swell with pride.

Henry moved to stand behind you pressing a kiss to your hair.

"They are brilliant! So good I'm so proud of every thing you have achieved and I want them on our book shelf, in the living room" he said making you tear up.

"Really? You... You think their that good?" you whined eyes blurring with tears as you hugged the first book to your chest.

"absolutely poppet now go on, you do the honours~" he said pressing your shoulder urging you to go to the cube bookshelf.

You tiptoed over to it and slowly pulled out each little custom book with your banner on the front.

You sat down placing each one delicately on the shelf the five books each lining up with one another half filling the empty cube shelf.

"oh no baby look? The shelf isn't full is it? You know what that means" he said standing looking

"I-I've gotta write?" you asked sniffling weeping softly but this time because you were happy.

"exactly! You need to fill the whole shelf, so you keep up the good work and tell daddy when you finish your next story and we can keep adding to it!" he said cheerfully walking over handing you the tablet.

You smiled to yourself and looked to the books, your books- actual real life books on a shelf!

You grinned throwing yourself at him latching onto him feeling your confidence come back just from seeing how much you had done.

Suddenly the hate didn't matter, your daddy like them enough to make them into real life books! And even annotated them himself?

And if your writing was good enough for your daddy then it was good enough for you.

"daddy, can I have my screen time now, I want to write!!" you said jumping up and down on the spot excited to start your next chapter.

Henry grinned nodding deciding you can have as much screen time today as you wanted as long as it meant you wasn't giving up your new hobby.

[kendrixtermina]

Appreciating the Range of Type 6, or, one stereotypical example, and three that aren’t.

I want to tell you about some type 6 ppl that I know in my personal life.

Exemplar #1: F. B.

Complete Stats

Wing: 5 p or cp: largely phobic – lots of safety worries, outright authoritarian follower personality Instinct: sp/soc Trifix: 613  - 6w5 1w2 3w2 (“The Taskmaster” or “The Middle Manager”) jungian: ISTJ / SLI-Te oldham: Conscientious & Aggressive Essence Type: Mars Temperament: Pure Choleric

What he’s like:

Not pleasant.

Every “strict conservative middle aged guy” stereotype in the book. Control freak, makes a mountain out of every molehill, sees the world as full of axe murderers, judgemental as fuck, horrible temper and yet completely impersonable, all his opinions are copypasted from right-wing news sites. When they say war is good he’s for war, and when they say war is bad he’ll be like “At least Trump did not start any more wars” without perceiving a contradiction. Despite this, he believes is very hot, principled and funny. He is none of these things. He puts people down nonstop. My knowledge of neurochemistry tells me that he must have emotions somewhere or he couldn’t function, but I ain’t ever seen a single one of those emotions. They’re all for his job and a few trusted mentor figures. And his mom. At least he loved her.

If you say anything he doesn’t like, he “throws the sofa out the window” as his wife once put it.

How he’s a Type 6:

Well, he’s pretty much every negative stereotype in a nutshell… other than distrusting his partner. But that might be cause hes sx blind, or cause the wife is big on monogamy & wouldn’t ever cheat.

The one positive trait of 6 that he has is that he does his research. Before moving anywhere he googles the crime rates and if you need a doctor he might find you the best one. But even that can be overriden by ideology (hydroxychloroquine!). And if you don’t take his exact advice, there goes the sofa out the window again…

And I guess the work ethic from all 3 parts of the trifix really comes through – he hasn’t had a single bad grade in his life and always keeps collecting new certifications, and will make sure you hear about it...

Exemplar #2: I.

Complete Stats

Wing: 5 P or cp: pretty much an even mix of phobic and counterphobic Instinct: sp/soc Trifix: 614 - 6w5 1w2 4w3 (Would prolly call herself “The Big Pain” rather than “The Philosopher” ^^°) jungian: INTJ / ILI-Ni oldham: Serious & Conscientious Essence Type: Saturn Temperament: Chlor-Mel

What she’s like:

I’d describe her as serious, mature, discerning, focused and passionate about her friendships, if perhaps somewhat forceful at times, with a dry, sarcastic sense of humor.

Comes across like someone who knows what she’s talking about, with well-articulated points.

Often the Responsible Sibling, Designated Sanity Checker or Bullshit Detector.

Prefers to plan everything in advance in typical Ni dom fashion, even amusement part trips. Gets somewhat anxious without a future plan or shedule.

Often mistaken for a whole lot more sociable and confident that she really feels inside. (even I kinda bought it and got her whole darn trifix wrong on my first typing attempt, though that was when I was new to typology) She can act the boss act temporarily to get the situation over with, but she actually hates making decisions.

She does however have the occasional cute/pure moment where that lower function block comes out.

How she’s a Type 6:

She has saved our family from many a terrible restaurant by making sure to check the reviews. The preparing for all possible dangers is very 6, the acting tough outwardly when youre inwardly anxious, the intellectual problem solving & some tendency towards organization/responsibility/ “logistic” intelligence.

One online test she took gave her 5w6 instead of 6w5 but that’s probably just the ITxx-ness leaking in. I remember this one time we were discussing this artsy-fartsy theater play to which we’d had fascinatingly different reactions, and at one point I half-jokingly said something like “But does anyone ever really feel connected to others, or is that a myth?” to which she wrote, “[Name], what the fuck? Yes I do.” and then immediately deleted it. That’s more of a 6 reaction innit?

Nonetheless the wing does feature in significantly – for example she got very well informed about a lot of topics because she researched them to assuage a random survival-related fear, like, “How to make sure I have enough retirement money”

Exemplar #3: M.

Complete Stats

Wing: 7 p or cp: largely phobic Instinct: sp/sx Trifix: 692 - 6w7 9w1 2w1 (Fortunately very much a “Good Samaritan” rather than “The Stockholm”) jungian: ISFP / SEI-Fi oldham: Sensitive & Devoted Essence Type: Lunar-Venus Temperament: Pure Supine

What she’s like:

Precious! Sweet, nice, good listener, friendly, gives all the best gifts. But also perceptive and good at understanding people, eg. mediating to the parents when one of the younger sisters is having An Emotion™ or winning the trust of problem children.

Unlike I. Who has some soc that helps her keep track of a larger circle of friends despite her introversion, M. tends to enjoy the closeness with her family and have just a few very close friends. Excellent friend material all around! The sx and Se also come out in enjoying art forms involving the body like theatre or dance.

She can be a bit shy, conflict-avoidant and occasionally a lil bit panicky though.

As a small kid she used to be super duper shy but then a wise english teacher encouraged her to play a big role in a play, and since then she’s a lot more confident and doesn’t let ppl push her around without limit, though she’s still a quiet, helpful person. There you see the difference that a good teacher can make.

How she’s a Type 6:

For one thing she moves and emotes faster than a core 9 would, and she fits the body language – big eyes that move around a lot, stands a bit lopsided, talks in a shrill voice on the rare occasions where we exhaust her patience etc. As a xSFx and a w7 she shows mostly the “warm, friendly, likeable” side of type 6. She also has a very 6-ish tendency to very frequently ask people’s opinions & feedback before making decisions. (the other fixes probably add to this)

Alas, she also has a little bit of of the fear/insecurity.

Also she has a social/care job which might be seen as 6-ish desire to serve the community.

Exemplar #4: J.

Complete Stats

Wing: 7 P or cp: largely counterphobic Instinct: sx/soc ?? definitely not sp first. Trifix: 638 - 6w7 3w4 8w9(?) (Shall she be a “Justice Fighter” or a “Kyle”? Only time will tell.) jungian: ISTP / LSI-Se ?? Oldham: ? some Dramatic & Serious, perhaps ? Essence Type: Definitely Mercury Temperament: San-Mel

What she’s like:

The first adjective that usually comes to my mind is ‘cool’. Sassy, energetic & a little bit tough, but also affectionate when she wants to be. (though in admiring way rather than a mushy one)

She says the coolest things, has a certain sly sort of cleverness, and an astonishly good poker face. Bit of an occasional prankster. Hilarious. Knows all sort of cool science facts. Avid gamer. 

Not especially popular or over the top sociable, but she gets sad if no one pays attention to her a while. Will act visibly moody where ppl can see sad or worried and can catastrophize a bit in such situations.

How she’s a Type 6:

I first though we might be getting an ExxP type 7 since she was a pretty energetic child, but once puberty hit and independent thought manifested, she turned out a whole lot too reactive and ‘edgy’ for this, and more on the ‘moderate introvert’ side of things.

Since then the sisterly dynamic has been like one fluffy golden dog and 3 hissing black cats. Hissing Cats #1 and #2 are very proud of her, but cat #1 was forced to conclude that she’s probably not a positive outlook type.

Out of all the reactive types 6 fits best because she does broadcast group identity (like wearing merchandise of her favorite media and wearing buttons in solidarity with ppl she likes.) & has a big case of Big Sibling worship for M, I, and someone else who isn’t on this list due to being a 9. (a 4 or 8 might like their older siblings but probably wouldn’t constantly stress the admiration.), but she can also show lasting, pouty displeasure with authority figures who have slighted her. (Like that one time I went too far in teasing her...)

I’m just assuming the 8 fix because that tends to make 6s more bold, louder & more shameless.

Basically she is the “punk teen” type of 6. She can be a bit dramatic & over-the top but still come to her family on advice (even advice on pranks!) in ways that xSTPs of other enneagrams prolly wouldn’t.

She also tends to use self-deprecating humor in tough situations and deflects compliments to present herself as ‘ordinary’.

...

This may sound like I’m really getting down on my first example (I won’t pretend that I’m not) but the point in bringing him up is that the reason he’s like this is: He was subject to really bad parenting that put a lot of fear into him, there was no good parenting to teach him broader coping strategies, he lived in a crappy environment that crushed his dreams, in a sense ‘confirming’ those fears and making him double down, resulting in a person who is just always rigidly following the same predictable pattern or jumping from one automatic reaction to the next with very little pausing and thinking. That goes for the other types too: A ‘stereotypical’ person is a desperate person ruled by fear, who cant stop or soften up even for an instant cause they constantly feel this fire of threat under their arse.

A lot of descriptions say that 6s ‘Follow authority’ but most would balk at the notion – ‘I do the research!’ they might argue ‘I don’t just trust anyone’ or ‘I’m actually a rebel’. There is of course such a thing as denial  that’s more like the extreme case.

But with a more average, functional 6 it’s not so much ‘obedience’ as that they just like to bounce their ideas off of others to get feedback, or that they feature in other’s viewpoints. So you might get someone who can naturally use feedback (something other ppl may have to learn first) or who is very considerate of others (which others might have to consciously remind themselves to do.)

Those are sometimes pretty good traits actually.

On the other hand this is probably part of what makes decisions hard cause they consider all these possible scenarios of how things might displease or cause harm to everyone involved.

Being able to naturally snap into Action Mode under stress looks a bit enviable from the outside, but I. assures me that it’s actually super stressful & exhausting, even for someone who doesn’t get to a point of just being unreasonably aggro at you.

Though even an extreme case like F.B. would probably claim that he ‘did the research’ even as he’s 1:1 quoting the Pope at you, and then saying that you ‘have to be respectful’ even if you don’t even believe in Christianity. Hence why you get a lot of authoritarians talking about “disrespect”. You didn’t “fail to obey”, you “disrespected the flag” or  “hurt the feelings of the Chinese people”. Because they’re still trying or inwardly thinking that they’re doing the consideritation & considering other’s PoV thing when they’ve long since crossed from respect and consideration into mindless obedience, all while still thinking that they’re very sceptical and discerning cause after all they really distrust the other political party or whatever.  

In a way you get this obsession with ‘mind control’ cause they’re not unaware of & very much looking to guard the blind spot. They’re adults trying to do adult things.

For example, if I voiced an opinion to F. B. which he didn’t like, his reaction was often to ask “who told you that”

That’s just how he seems to think opinions work, somebody tells them to you.

Makes one wonder how he thinks new opinions start.

Yeah - Nobody told me that. I concocted it myself in some corner of my head. And in the interest of objectivity, I should stress that you can also end talking out of your ass that way, if you’re not basing it on enough outside data. Making up new shit has more of a quadratic than a linear learning curve – at least with copying you get something semi-useful right away. In making up your own you might be really off a long time before you stumble on something useful.

Also, I was young at the time and it’s not wholly unreasobale to think that an inexperienced person might be duped. I reacted really badly in part cause he hit my own ego buttons cause I was of course proud of this epiphany that I had concocted by myself, and now he says (or so I perceived it, being sensitive to accusations of incompetence) that I’m too dumb to form an opinion, so of course I launched into full Obnoxious Reddit Dude Mode.

In I. It manifests more on a reasonable useful level like “Oh wait, should [young cousin] be on TikTok? I don’t want him to get sucked into some cultish BS.” which is at least something the parents should have on the radar/ warn him about even if they do let him use TikTok, because for all that it is vital for him to get his experience with independent socializing & experimentig with sel-presentation, people do sometimes get suckered into cults or goaded into unsafe tests of courage.

And in a sense… maybe they overamphasize it but to some extent they’re also simply consciously aware/ mindful of it. The rest of us are not immune to propaganda after all, solong as it’s presented in a way pleasing to our egos. Any type structure can become a ‘hook’ if you’re not careful.