#i will literally never shut up when this comes out

[scuderiahalf]

(almost) one year with you — c.sainz

pairing. carlos sainz x strategist!norris!fem!reader

summary. your boyfriend is usually so intelligent. when he makes one of the stupidest decisions of his life to break up with you, his best friend (and your idiot brother) decides to take matters into his own hands. 4.3k, 18+

warnings. breakups = makeup sex, oral (fem receiving), fingering, reader is kind of a bitch but carlos is into it

masterlist.

.

"I'm going to kick the door open."

"Please, do not do that," Carlos says from behind you.

"You think I can't?"

Smartly, Carlos chooses not to voice any further opinions.

You kick the door, more out of frustration than an actual attempt to break it open.

"I'm going to murder you when I get out of here, Lando!" you shout against the door, not really caring if your idiot brother has hung around to hear the very real threat.

You may not actually kill him (you're still debating it) but you will definitely hit him. At least five times. Maybe more. And he's not getting any of your late-night stress-baked cookies for several months. Asshole.

You kick the door again, harder. The wood bends near the bottom from the impact, rattling in the doorframe but otherwise unmoving. Your groan turns into a yell of frustration, punctuated by you hitting the still closed door with both hands. You seriously cannot believe Lando would do this.

"Are you finished?"

Carlos sounds almost amused.

If he hadn't been literally thrown into the room by not just Lando but Max and Alex as well, you might think he's in on this whole scheme. Instead, you just glare at him, irritated that he's so calm while you're both being held against your will.

"Is being made to be near me that horrible?" Carlos says.

"Oh, fuck off."

"You are acting as if they will not have to let us out eventually."

"How long is that going to take? Huh? I don't want to be locked in here for hours. It's actually FUCKING RIDICULOUS!"

You're shouting at the door again, hoping your dumbass brother and his stupid fucking friends can hear.

They all better be prepared for the consequences. There's no one better at holding a grudge than you.

You never should have trusted Lando when he had insisted you come to Charles Leclerc’s dumb yacht party. He never wants to be seen in public with you much less all but beg you to attend a party with all his friends who are so much cooler than you because he's an F1 driver and all his friends are, too, and you're just a strategist.

(You never thought that being a trackside strategist at Scuderia Ferrari would be preceded by "just" as though it isn't an impressive feat but with a brother like Lando Norris, nothing you do ever really seems to measure up. You're the reason Lando ever got into racing or F1 in the first place. So really, this is your own fault.)

You give up harassing the door (it locks from the inside so there must be something blocking it in the hallway) and start searching the room for another way out. It's a bedroom, and you're choosing to assume that it just happened to be the easiest place to trap you both and not a purposeful nudge to something untoward. Lando isn't that crude. You think.

After this little stunt, you don't think he deserves the benefit of the doubt.

You start checking all the drawers to see if there's anything useful. You don't actually know what you're looking for. Maybe like a fire axe or a hand saw so you can brute force your way out of here.

"We could talk," Carlos proposes.

"And give Lando what he wants? No, thank you."

"You are so proud. Can we not talk this out?"

"What's there to talk out, Carlos? You dumped me, remember?"

That shuts him up.

You refuse to look at him. Even with your back to him as you search through a completely empty dresser, you can feel the look on his face. Full lips pouting, big brown cow eyes all sad and pitiful. You'd fold like a cheap suit if you saw his pretty eyes right now and you're trying really hard to stay strong and hang onto your anger so you won't give in.

There's nothing in any of the dresser drawers. The nightstands are fruitless, too. The wardrobe houses only empty hangers, and not even the cheap wire ones that could be bent into something useful like a weapon to kill yourself with if things get any more tense in this tiny room.

"I regret it," he says.

You close the wardrobe with a heavy breath.

"I regretted it as soon as I said we should end it."

"Cry me a river, Sainz. Build a bridge. Get over it. You don't get to call me ��nothing but a distraction’ then tell me you regret it and expect me to forgive you just like that—fuck this. I'm going to swim to shore."

You yank the balcony door open and climb up onto one of the chairs so you can get over the railing.

"Y/N!" Carlos curses in Spanish, scrambles after you and gets an arm around you before you can actually step up onto the railing. "What are you doing?!"

"I just said! I'm going to swim to shore. Let me go!"

Carlos picks you up like a purse dog and carries you back into the room. He stands in front of the balcony door after setting you down, blocking your only escape route.

"You cannot swim to shore. We are miles out of sea!"

"If it gets me out of this room, I'd do it!"

"Can you not just talk to me?"

"No!"

"Why?!"

"Because I don't want to!"

"What are you afraid is to happen?"

"I don't have to explain myself. Especially not to you."

So, you don't explain yourself. You walk over to the couch and take a seat, arms and legs crossed, looking anywhere but at Carlos.

You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to that first date with Carlos last year. You know what you were signing up for. You knew all the judgement would be on you if/when you decided to go public. You knew Ferrari would have many things to say about your relationship, and they did, when you told them earlier in the season before it could potentially get ugly with a reveal from unsasvory sources.

You knew all of that and you went for it, anyway, because could you even call yourself a Norris if you didn't go after what you wanted? You knew what being with Carlos would bring but apparently, you were the only one.

After eleven amazing months together, Carlos got cold feet. You don't know how else to describe it. You had told your family after three months; he'd told his after just one. Everyone was happy for you. Your family loves Carlos, and the Sainz clan accepted you with open arms. You were so happy.

But as your relationship pushed a year, Carlos said you needed to talk, called you a distraction, subsequently hazardous for his line of work, and ended things.

Did you call him an emotionally stunted manchild before storming out of the cafe he asked to meet at? If you did, he surely deserved it.

A few weeks after that, you're where you are now, locked in a bedroom on a yacht while a party rages on several floors above. Carlos says he regrets breaking up with you, that he wanted to take back everything he said, but he already said it and that's how things are now.

You'll not be the girl he comes crawling back to whenever it's convenient for him. If going steady is a hazard for work, then an off again-on again situationship is definitely not OSHA-compliant. You refuse to lower yourself to being a doormat that Carlos wipes his feet on whenever he feels he has the time.

After a while of standing guard at the balcony door, Carlos makes a move to sit on the couch with you.

"No," you say.

He halts midstep.

"You can sit on the bed."

Slowly, as though giving you a chance to change your mind, Carlos sulks over to the bed and sits.

He's moving to Williams next year. He has only a handful of races left in rosso corsa. He doesn't know you're sitting on a job offer that could have you following him, a promotion to head strategist at the Oxfordshire team that you can't believe you're actually debating because of your standing with a man.

You've told no one of Williams's proposition. So, you really don't know why you open your mouth to tell Carlos of all people.

"Williams wants me as their head strategist."

He looks up, eyes bright, surprised but excited for you. "What? That is amazing."

"Yeah, I know it is," you say, glaring at him again. "I haven't accepted yet, though."

Carlos is quiet, then carefully says, "Because of me?"

"No," you say because it's just ridiculous for that to be the reason you're holding up contract negotiations, "Yes, because of you. Obviously. I don't want you thinking I'm following you. I'm not. I'm pursuing my career. So, I know that changes you being all regretful. I just want to clarify things before you hear about it from someone else.”

“Why would it change how I feel?”

“Because we’ll still be coworkers next season.”

“That changes it? What does it change?”

Carlos' accent (hot as fuck) and the way he doesn't always say things 100% correct (cute as fuck) are misleading for his actual understanding of the English language. So, you're really not sure what he's getting confused over.

He's leaving. You were supposed to be staying. No longer working together meant no distractions for him until you would meet up at a hotel after a shitty quali and he would fuck the shit out of you. Or something like that.

It'd feel good in the moment but you don't want him for just sex. You don't want casual. You don't want to be a convenient, low-maintenance, not-quite-official girlfriend. You won't do it. No matter how pretty he is.

And his plan to get you back was ruined now that you'd be moving to Williams for next season, anyway.

“I’d not be a distraction if I was staying at Ferrari. Now, we’ll both still be on the same team. Not convenient for you to still be in a toxic work environment, huh? So, you can cut the crap.”

“That has nothing to do with my regret."

"I won't be a casual fuck buddy who you can't stand to be around when it doesn't work for you."

"I never said that!"

He seems genuinely hurt by your implication but you won't fall for it, won't let it deter you.

"It's kind of implied. You know with the whole 'I have to focus on my driving' thing. Like, what the fuck were you doing for the rest of the time we were together? Nothing changed and you suddenly decided it was too much, then you want me back but I ruined that for you. You'll be seeing me next year, too, so don't even bother with the whole regret speech or whatever."

"I—," Carlos starts, then says nothing.

He can't seem to find the words.

"What? Nothing to say? You wanted to talk. Talk."

"If I am in a team with you or not," he says, slow, calculated, "It does not change that I regret what I said."

Carlos takes a second to think before continuing. That's where you two differ.

Carlos has always been incredibly intelligent. You knew he was gorgeous before you had ever met in person but his mind made him appeal even more to you when you first started working trackside last season. Long, intellectual conversations preceded him asking you out after his masterclass in Singapore.

You nearly started foaming at the mouth when he said "it's on purpose" to keeping your brother within DRS to hold off Mercedes. You were ready to jump his bones right then and there in the middle of the team celebration when he asked you to dinner before you flew back to England.

But he was a gentleman. (He didn't fuck you until after your second date, but it was a close thing that first night when you leaned over the center console to kiss him. You'd have ridden him right there in the front seat of that rental car if your idiot brother hadn't chosen then to walk by and make a scene. Kind of a mood killer.)

The two of you both found fascination in the other's way of thinking, Carlos' smooth logic and your chaotic brilliance. He is all thought and few words while you talk and talk until you find your solution.

You always found beauty in the contrast. You balance each other. Simultaneously alike and disimilar. He is someone you saw yourself building a life with. After nearly a year together, those are the kinds of thoughts you start to have about a partner.

"So, you regret it," you gather, "But do you still think I'm a distraction?"

"Of course, you are a distraction. I am in love with you. There is nothing more distracting than that."

You laugh, disbelieving. "You're in love with me but I'm distracting and you can't be with me? Why? Because you love racing more?"

"I was scared. I was stupid. I am stupid. I am."

"Self deprecation won't do you any favors. But, yeah, you are stupid. You're not making any sense."

"I was scared. You were everything I could think of. I thought I could not find a balance between you and racing. But without you, it is even worse. I want you as a distraction. I know that because I have lost you.”

“You haven’t,” you say before your brain even knows what you’re doing. “Not entirely, yet. Maybe… You’re not allowed to do this again. Ever.”

And you’re crying. Of course.

Carlos is at your side in record time, kneeling in front of you, taking immediate advantage of the crack in your defenses. “Never.”

“You can’t do shit like this. You can’t push me aside like I don’t matter. You can’t call me a distraction.”

“You are a distraction. In the best way.”

Unimpressed and wiping your tears, you say, “Wow. You’re such a poet.”

Carlos laughs thickly. “I love you.”

“Ugh, fuck off.”

You’re still wiping at your face. You didn’t cry when Carlos called it quits, refused to let him have any sort of hold over you when he pushed you aside but now, you’re crying. It’s in relief but you still feel your face getting hot from the embarrassment of it.

He knocks your hands aside to cup your cheeks. “You are the love of my life. I will do whatever it takes to fix what I broke.”

“S’not broken. Just bent. Or whatever the saying is. I don’t fucking care—just kiss me.”

Carlos’ “yes, ma’am” is muffled against your lips.

It’s only been three weeks (three and a half but who’s counting) since he last kissed you but it feels like an eternity.

It’s salty from your tears and wet, also from the tears but more from the way you let his tongue into your mouth after probably not enough time has passed. You don’t care. You just want him.

“I love you," you break the kiss to say. "Don't leave me."

"I won't."

"Say it back."

"I love you. I love you I love you I love you."

.

His words jumble between English and Spanish as he kisses down your body.

Your breath catches as he pulls your hips further down the cushion you're sat on. Stupid F1 driver muscles. You want to sink your teeth into his bicep, make him walk around with the bruise, a reminder of who he belongs to.

He slips his fingers into the waistband of your pants, looks up for permission. You lift your hips. You've missed what his big brown eyes look like when they're all dark with want.

He pulls your pants and underwear down and tosses them aside, tugging you even closer to the edge of the couch. Your legs part. He puts your knees on his shoulders then finally pushes his face between your thighs.

You let your head fall back as you sigh, probably sounding ridiculous but he's always been good at this.

He had you ride his face one time. He practically had to beg to get you to agree. There was a lot of him gripping onto you, arms wrapped around your thighs and hips to force you to stay in place. He'd kept you there until you couldn't stay upright or fight against his hold, coaxing multiple orgasms out of you with just his mouth.

Then, he'd fucked you until you came for a fifth time. (You tell a guy one time about how your last partner hadn't the patience to get more than one orgasm out of you, and he makes it his life's mission to get three or more every time you go at it. How terrible for you. Ha.)

He eats you out like a man starving, like he has something to prove. To be fair, he does but he's not going to be entirely back in your good graces just because he's helping you get off for the first time in three and a half weeks. This is just extra credit.

One of his hands finds yours. He tangles your fingers and holds your hand as he involves his free fingers in slipping past your entrance. You open up for him with obscene ease, legs falling apart even further.

He fucks you with a single finger slow, slow, slow while his tongue licks languidly at your clit.

"Carlos," you whine his name.

You don't need all the pleasure you already know he's more than capable of giving you. You just need to get off already.

"I will get you there, hermosa," he promises with a kiss to your inner thigh.

"Get there faster; I don't want my idiot brother thinking better of his insane plan and letting us out while you're nose-deep in my cunt."

Carlos huffs a laugh. You can feel the air against where you're wet. It makes you squirm.

Usually, Carlos would tell you to stay still and be patient but seems to think better of it this time. You would probably still do as he says, circumstance regardless, but he doesn't need to know that. He just presses his lips back to your pussy.

He sucks on the hardened little bundle of nerves at the joint of your labia just how he knows will make you go limp and needy. He pushes a second then a third finger into you, the stretch just that much more than you can manage with your own, smaller digits.

You could've gotten it with the neglected dildo that lives somewhere mostly forgotten in your closet. There was something that felt so final about bringing out the toy you haven't needed since that second date. Thankfully, you still don't need it. You should consider just pitching it, at this point.

You push your hand through Carlos' hair, brushing the ridiculously perfect locks off his forehead so you can watch his stupid, beautiful face as he goes down on you.

"You're so pretty like this, baby," you praise.

His dark eyes flicker up to you, exhaling against your exposed cunt and shifting his knees on the floor.

You're sure if he had a hand free, he'd be palming himself over his pants. He gets off on you getting off and praise goes straight to his dick. You've got this fantasy of making him come completely untouched but you might need to do actual research on that before it becomes a reality.

He sticks his tongue down with his fingers, lapping at your hole and spitting your wetness onto your clit just because it's hot. Like the way he's slobbering over you isn't enough to make the glide of his tongue over your clit smooth and delectable.

"Come on, baby. Don't tease. Not now."

Carlos makes this little displeased noise in the back on his throat.

Quickies aren't really in Carlos' sexual vocabulary. He occasionally likes it as rough and fast as the next dick-haver but he's more of a spread you open and make love to you for hours at a time kind of guy.

He took you to a secluded little cabana in Mallorca for a week during summer break specifically so you two could spend days on end doing nothing but loving on each other. Then, he took you to meet his family and you had to pretend like you hadn't spent the majority of the week prior with their golden child's dick or fingers or tongue inside of you.

Currently, you're just wanting to find relief without Lando or some other F1 driver walking in on you first.

"Carlos, baby—please."

Carlos likes when you play nice. When you're so desperate for it that your bossy exterior goes away. You tell yourself that you exploit this because your unending pride doesn't like the alternative that you really just are that desperate for it.

He finally starts to finger bang you properly. Combine that with the obscene slurping sounds he's making against your clit and the lack of action for nearly a month and no one could really blame you for not taking long to hit your high.

Heat curls and explodes in your gut and up your spine, back arching, lungs gasping, Carlos' name falling from your mouth as your thighs try to close around his head. He gets his elbows up to hold your legs open. His fingers keep fucking you through your orgasm. He pulls his other hand free of your grip to massage your clit with his thumb, kissing your thighs, pubes, stomach.

He captures your lips in a kiss while you're still riding it out. It's intense and leg-shaking after so long without, emotion-driven, which is the best kind but not worth it after knowing what the fear of losing him is like. You can hardly kiss him back, face pulled in pleausre, moans spilling past your lips that Carlos swallows unburdened.

You tuck your face into his shoulder as he drags it out just to the precipice of overstimulation. You tug him into you, arms around his shoulders, fingers tugging the hair at the base of his skull. He lets his fingers rest inside of you, rests that thumb against your clit so he can hold you back with one arm, at least.

You just breathe for a moment, composing yourself where he can't see your face. The worst may be over but the level of trust you'd built over months together would not be so easily reinstated. He'd have to work hard for that, much harder than a sinlge mind-blowing orgasm.

"Don't leave me," you say in a whisper. "You can't, okay?"

"I won't."

"Promise."

"I promise I will not leave you again. I am the most dumb man if I lose you another time. I will deserve it, then."

"Be smart, then. Like I know you have the capacity to be."

Carlos pulls his fingers out. He catches your shiver, still wrapped up in his one arm. He kisses your cheek before finding something to clean his hands with. You've pulled your pants back on when he's finished.

"Likelihood someone heard us?" you prompt.

"Heard you, you mean?"

You kick at him as he comes back over to you. "Watch it."

He tucks you against his side once he's sat. "Scale?"

"One to a hundred."

"90, at least."

You smack his chest. "Dick."

"You are very loud, mi amor. You talk so much, and you make such pretty noises."

"Don't insult me immediately after I've forgiven you."

You've not drawn away from him at all. In fact, you've tucked your feet up on the couch to curl into him fully.

Carlos knows this. He presses a kiss to your temple.

"I love you. I am sorry I am so stupid."

"I guess I've just got to have enough brains and beauty for the both of us."

"You have always."

You hide your smile in his chest. He holds your thigh when you put your legs across his lap. Now you've got him back, you want to be as close as physically possible. Whoever first said they want to be inside their partner's skin really gets it.

.

George Russell ends up getting sent to let you two out. Evidently, your brother fled the scene of the crime once the yacht returned to port in the early hours of the morning. He dumped the chore of opening Pandora's box on an innocnet bystander.

"I am so sorry—"

"Oh, clever," you say when you spot the poor Brit, "He sends an uninvolved party to let me out like I couldn't track him anywhere in the world. I've his trainer's phone number and Jon likes me more than him. I am going to beat his skinny little muppet ass. When I find him—"

You trip over the tangle of chairs that had been used to barricade the bedroom door from the outside.

Carlos catches your elbow.

"Amor, it is late," he says. "Sleep, first, hm?"

You relax into his hold a bit, a silent concession. It'll be easier to murder your little brother after a good night's sleep, anyway.

"So, are you two...?" George trails off.

You cut him a glare.

"Nothing. Never mind. Apologies."

He speeds around the two of you and off the boat.

"The 2019 rookies are all terrified of you."

"Good."

Carlos laughs. "I am excited to see what Alex is like with you next year."

You smile.

Next year, you'll still be working with Carlos. It'll be at a different team, a midfielder at best but at least Carlos will still be on the grid. He'll still find increasingly laughable excuses to be in engineering just to see you. He'll still come home to you, the same that you'll come home to him.

A future with Carlos is still in the cards. He'll be damned if he messes it up again, you know that much.

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

HIII OK SO THIS IS A REALLY SPECIFIC REQ SO IF U CANT DO IT THEN ITS ALL GOOD

so

COULD U DO AVERY X BESTFRIEND!READER (PLATONIC OFC) WHERE HER BESTGRIEND IS LIKE A SINGER / ACTRESS

MAYBE THE READER JS GOING THROUGH A ROUGH SPOT W JAMESON AND AVERY COMFORTS HER.

JUST SOME BESTIE LOVE YK

hi!! I’m SO SO SO SO SO SO INSANELY sorry it’s taken me so long to respond to this request it was literally requested on the 20th of august and I feel so bad!! but I finally finished and I hope you enjoy

title: she’s always there

pairing: avery x bestfriend!reader (platonic)

synopsis: after a fight with jameson you know you need avery at your side to make things right again

warnings: mild swearing

a/n: three months too late but I didn’t forget you, hope you enjoy anon :))

taglist: @lovethornes @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @fleuriosa @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31 @loveinalocket @lanterns-and-daydreams @hermesenthusiast

The door slams shut. The sound echoes through my ears, bouncing around my head, a painful reminder of all that had just exploded. I stumble forwards, my fingers shaking on the doorknob. I want to run to him but my legs are stuck in an invisible cement. So my body gives way and I crumble to the floor.

Tears blur my vision as I shake in a pathetic heap. My chest hurts with each ugly sob. I hate fighting, but I hate this even more. This pain, this agony. I sob harder until my throat is so raw only cracked sounds come out.

I stay there for what feels like hours, maybe even days. I’m heavy with exhaustion and grief. I know I need to get up but I don’t move. I can’t will myself out of this position. Fear flickers in the pit of my stomach. Why can’t I get up? I have no energy, no motivation.

Nothing, I feel nothing.

But even the dread of feeling nothing doesn’t even pull me from the numbness. My skin is thickened with a layer of senselessness. I’m too weighted by my own sadness to move. This happened before, this happened last time, this couldn’t happen again.

I could hear my heart thumping in my ears. The sound almost deafening. I’m taking sharp jagged breaths that I can’t control. I need Avery.

I need her more than anything right now. She promised me if things got bad again that she would be one call away. And she made me promise that I’d call her. I couldn’t break my promise, I’m not a person who breaks their promises.

But I haven’t seen her in weeks and what if she only thinks I call her when I’m struggling? What if she thinks I’m using her? What if she gets tired and just walks out like everyone else?

I usually block out ‘the before’. But I can remember snippets, like how I couldn’t to get out of bed, to get off of the floor, to move, to eat, to take care of myself and how I felt then I’m starting to feel now. An icy coolness is pulsating through my veins, so sharp that I can’t feel it anymore.

My phone is next to my face. I can see it. But my finger feels like they’re being dragged down my a large iron ball and chain. I can’t even reach my phone for my emergency contact. My hollow chest begins to throb.

“Call Avery,” I whisper to my phone, “please call Avery. I need her.”

One ring. Tw-

“Ave,” I murmur, my voice shaking.

She replies almost instantly, “what’s wrong?”

She’s sharp, she’s ready, she’s immediate. She’s going to help me pull myself together, I tell myself.

“I need you,” I whisper, not knowing what else to say other than the truth. I can’t sugarcoat anything now. I’m not fine. I can’t move.

“I’m coming,” Avery tells me.

“It’s getting bad again,” I snivel the words just blurting out before there’s enough time for them to be filtered

I feel her freeze for a moment, “bad?”

“I’m stuck on the floor,” I mumble, my throat hoarse and sore, “I can’t move.”

“Just wait there okay,” she comforts, “I’m coming.”

“My life is a mess,” I ramble, not being able to stop myself. I’ve lost control, over my mind, over my body, over my words.

“I’ll be over in two minutes okay, stay on the line with me,” she says urgently.

“I’m sorry,” I say choking out another sob, “I’m so so sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologise,” she says firmly but with kindness behind her tone, “just sit tight and I’m coming.”

“Okay,” I exhale, trying to ignore the lump growing in my throat.

“What happened?” she asks so softly I just want to melt into even more of a puddle of a human being. I’m halfway there, my limbs sprawled every which way, my tearstained face covered by a curtain of hair.

“Everything went wrong,” I tremble, not knowing how else to describe it. The scene plays out in the mind again and again, a pitiless record of pain on loop.

“What’s everything?” Avery asks, her voice so mellow, so gentle, so calm.

“Jameson.”

His name sends a twinge of pain across my chest.

“Oh sweetie I’m sure it’s okay,” she says, “it’s normal for couples to fight.”

“Not like this,” I shake my head as if she can see me.

“Let me in and we’ll talk about it,” she says.

“You’re outside?” I ask my voice opting for the tone of a vulnerable child. She’d arrived faster than I thought she would.

“Yes,” she confirms.

“Door’s unlocked,” I murmur, the words kind of slurring into one another as I said them.

“I might get a speeding ticket tomorrow but it’ll be worth it,” the door opens, “besides Alisa will probably be able to get me out of it.”

“Mmmm,” I respond, feeling tired, each of my limbs weighing me down as if they were made of lead.

“Sweetie you need to stand up,” she tells me gently, I can feel her hand running up and down my arm rhythmically.

“I can’t,” I wheeze, everything was so heavy it ached.

“You can,” Avery replies, “I’m going to help you.”

“I’m tired,” I groan, my vision blurring as my eyelids fall shut.

“Then we can go to bed,” she says.

My lips quiver, “Avery?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs.

“I can’t stand up,” I whisper, the ghost of my voice vibrating against my throat, “I can’t do it.”

“Here then let’s sit up first,” she says.

Slowly she helps me into a sitting position. The world feels a little hazy. My head rolls backwards and thumps on the wall, it’s too heavy to hold up.

A flicker of pain spreads across the back of my head, the first real feeling in my state of numbness. She wraps her arms around me and I fall into her softly crying. I don’t know if it’s the pain in my head or the pain in my heart endorsing the tears but I don’t care.

She holds me tightly and tenderly as if she might never let go. I fear if she does I’ll fall apart and break into millions of pieces on the floor that can never be put back together again. My entire body shakes as my tears dampen my best friend’s shirt.

“Come on,” she says slowly, helping me to my feet after a long bout of silence.

I don’t want to move but my legs are willed too having obtained pins and needles from my static state. I don’t know how she managed to get me thinking about something other than my absence of feeling, allowing me to walk, but she did. We slump down on the sofa together and I curl up into her grip. I don’t want to let Avery go, not when my mind is retelling the story.

“What is your problem with me?” I scoff, putting the dishes into the cupboard not really meeting his eyes.

He’d been offish all through dinner, the one chance we actually had to spend time with each other and of course he picks that moment to be mad.

“My problem?” he says, with a bitter laugh, “you want to know my problem?”

“That is what I just said isn’t it?” I quip back, a bit snarky.

“Where are you half the time?” he asks, a degree of hurt in his voice that makes my heart twist.

I stare at him, dumbfounded as my brain registers the question, “what?”

“I never see you anymore,” Jameson tells me, “I mean any longer without you and I feel like I’m going to forget your face.”

“You do see me,” I reply curtly.

“No I don’t and you know it,” he snaps, a wild looking shining through his emerald eyes.

“Jamie I can’t help my schedule,” I sigh, putting my hands on my hips, “I didn’t choose this.”

“Maybe you didn’t but you’re not trying to do anything about it,” he accuses me.

“I am!” I exclaim, throwing my hands up into the air.

“No you’re not,” he shakes his head, “you’re not doing anything and it’s not fair.”

“Give it a month and-“

“No! I’m tired of waiting,” he says, desperation bleeding into his voice, “it’s always next month this and next week that, I’m sick and tired of waiting for us.” he runs a hand through his unruly hair, “isn’t love meant to come first?”

“I need a job,” I say in a low voice, “I need money Jameson.”

“I’ll give you money,” he groans a pleading look in his features.

“You don’t understand,” I yell, “I need to make this for myself.”

“Why?” he shouts, “I could give you anything you ever wanted!”

“I wanted to earn something, not just be given it,” I try to explain.

“You’ve earned everything you need to,” he presses on.

“Acting is what I love to do Jamie,” I tell him, the passion seeping into my voice, “these auditions are what I love to do.”

“I thought you loved me,” he shoots back.

“I do,” I exhale, “you know I do.”

Jameson shakes his head with a bitter and slightly pained sort of smile, “it feels like all you care about is this stupid work of yours.”

My eyes are squinted shut. I’m trapped in a memory I hate, held captor in a prison of my mind’s own making.

“Talk to me,” Avery whispers, “I’m here.”

“Jamie hates me, I barely see you, I overwork, I can’t sleep, all my auditions are going horribly and I’m just messing everything up-“ I ramble, my voice becoming thicker and thicker with emotion with each word.

“Hey,” she says softly, “just breathe.”

“I can’t, it’s like everything is coming at me all at once and I can’t handle it,” I choke, “I feel like I’m drowning Avery and every time I kick up to the surface another wave takes me out again. It’s this cycle that I can’t make my way out of.”

“Oh sweetheart,” she soothes, “just try for me and ignore all of it for a second and just look into my eyes.”

I meet her gentle hazel eyes, but they blur as tears fill my vision.

“Think about us,” she says, “right now. Me and you together, talking to each other. Focus on the present, stop thinking about the future and the past.”

My mind quiets a little, the raging storm of black clouds and loud sounds begins to dim down into a low hum. It’s still there but less. It’s better. A feel a spark of hope pulsate through my veins, previously darkened by hopelessness.

“Feeling a little better?” she tilts her head to the side.

“A little,” I nod hesitantly. I don’t want to speak too soon, there is still time for things too get much much worse.

“That’s good,” she smiles, “that’s really good.”

I exhale slowly, a little shakily. I lean further into Avery and her arms naturally wrap around me. I’m in the safety and warmth of her arms, her soft touch.

“I’ve got you,” she reminds me, “and when you’re ready, just talk and I’ll listen.”

“I don’t know where to start,” I laugh, buts it’s a forced laugh that I soon regret as if makes my throat ache.

“Do you want to talk about what happened between you and Jameson?” she suggests.

“You’re being so pathetic,” I snap, rolling my eyes.

“And you’re being selfish,” he exclaims.

I stop in my tracks and spin to face him, “for wanting to make something of myself for my life? I’m not you, Jameson. I didn’t get everything handed to me on a golden platter.”

Hurt flashes across his face.

“You think I haven’t worked for what I am today?” he barks, “you think I was just given all of this?”

“I’m just saying it’s not as simple as you think it is,” I groan, trying to walk away.

He stands in front of me, looking deep into my eyes, his tone softens, “I would move the sun and the stars just to spend time with you,” anger clouds his features, sending an overcast of fury to his eyes, “but I don’t see you trying to change anything to see me.”

“I have tried,” I tell him, “but it’s really difficult Jameson and I’m exhausted,”

“Exhausted of what? Of this, of our relationship,” he snaps, quick to jump to some ridiculous conclusion.

“Are you drunk?” I laugh.

“Why do you always think I’m drunk?” he shoots back, venom on his tongue.

“Because you’re spouting nonsense,” I reply, raising my voice a little.

“Of course, of course,” he rolls his eyes in his bout of sarcasm, “I’m the one who’s spouting nonsense.”

“What do you want me to do Jameson?” I ask, a lump growing in my throat, “drop everything for you?”

“Love comes with sacrifices,” he shrugs in response.

“So what I’m meant to sacrifice my entire passion?” I scoff.

He couldn’t be serious.

“No I’m just asking you to at least attempt to make more time,” he says, “I mean don’t you miss me like I miss you?”

“Of course I miss you,” I sigh.

“Then why don’t you show it?” he asks and I can see how much it wounds him, “you’re a closed book around me now. I used to be able to read you so well but now it’s like a blank page.”

“How would you know, I thought you didn’t see me anymore?” I bite back.

“We got into a fight,” I whisper, memories flooding back.

“A bad one?” Avery says carefully, like she’s treading on eggshells.

“He left,” I shrug.

“Asshole,” she mutters in my defence.

“No,” I shake my head, sitting back up to face her, “I was horrible, I would’ve left me.”

Beat.

“But he was horrible too,” I sniff.

“People say things they don’t mean in fights,” Avery points out, reaching to touch my arm.

“Or they say what they’re really thinking,” I blurt out, my mind is too consumed by my own thoughts to filter what I’m saying.

“More often than not it’s things they don’t mean, trust me,” she says, a tenderness in her voice that makes my heart squeeze, “besides Jameson can be a real impulsive idiot sometimes.”

“I love that about him,” I chuckle snivelling slightly, “but… it’s just that lately things haven’t been the same between us.”

“How so?”

“I’m leaving,” Jameson snaps. He’s finally had enough, he’s finally walking out on me. Of course. How could I possibly think someone could really love me as much as he said he did.

“Where are you going?” I ask, a sudden panic clawing at my chest overriding all of the built up anger and resentment.

“Why do you care?” he shrugs, grabbing his keys swiftly.

“Because I love you, you idiot!” I yell.

He stops and slowly turns around. Our eyes connect and for a split second deja vu washes over me and we’re meeting for the first time. I’m falling in love with his enchanting green eyes.

“Do you?” he asks, “really?”

“You’re being such an idiot right now,” I scrunch up my face as I shout, “I hope you know that.”

“If you’ll excuse me I’m going to go and get drunk and spout nonsense like I usually do,” he says, “according to you.”

“Oh come off of it,” I scream, a sudden surge of pure rage appearing.

“What?”

“Stop acting like mr high and mighty on your high horse,” I snarl, “it’s not fair.”

“You know what’s not fair, what you’re doing to me,” he barks, “I’m in limbo here, I don’t know whether you’re coming or going, the only time I see you is when I leave this house and you’re asleep.”

“Then wake me up,” I deadpan, arms folded.

“And make you even more exhausted?” he scoffs, “fat chance!”

“I’m giving you solutions and you’re just deterring them,” I exclaim.

“Because you know they’re stupid solutions,” he explodes.

“Well life is just keeping us apart. I’m always at auditions, he’s off with his brothers, then when I come home he’s asleep and I can’t sleep and then when I finally sleep, he wakes up,” I blubber, “we’re not getting enough time to be with each other and I’m trying so hard to make time, but I don’t have the energy because I’m so exhausted from everything else.”

“And that’s okay, that’s understandable,” she reassures me, “he’s probably just frustrated because he doesn’t get to spend time with you, that shows he loves you, right? Someone who didn’t wouldn’t experience these feelings.”

“I suppose,” I shrug, “but Avery you should have seen him. He was so mad when he walked out. It’s the biggest fight we’ve ever been in.”

“I’m sure things will get better, they always do,” she soothes, “I mean think about to your last fight, how long did that last?”

Barely a few hours, I recall. Jameson and I had never fought for long in our relationship. It was so hard to stay so mad at someone I loved so much.

“What if it’s different this time?” I murmur, imagining the worst.

“It’s not,” Avery says, “trust me.”

“He was just so mad,” I say, biting my lip, “I’ve never seen him look at me like that.”

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Avery tells me gently, “whatever the outcome is, I’ve got you the whole way.”

“Thanks Ave,” I try to smile but it doesn’t quite reach my eyes, “he doesn’t get it, he thinks he does, but he doesn’t.”

“Maybe that’s why he’s getting so angry,” she suggests.

“I wish he would just let me explain,” I groan, putting my head in my hands.

“Why don’t you just communicate that to him?” she says.

“Because I have no time to!” I exclaim, not meaning to sound so defensive and snappy, “I just need to get through this month and then everything will be back to normal.”

“Sweetheart, I think you need to make some time to talk to him,” Avery says earnestly, “in this month. Explain this all to him, otherwise he’s going to keep building up all this anger for no reason and things are going to get worse.”

“Why is he so angry?” I ask in frustration, meaning for the question to be rhetorical.

“Because he doesn’t like not seeing you,” she replies, “he loves you.”

He love me. He loves me. He loves me. The words echo around my head relentlessly.

“I’m stupid,” I say, letting my head hit Avery’s shoulder.

“You’re not stupid,” she replies, putting her arm around me and rubbing small circles on my shoulder with her thumb.

“He hates me,” I mumble into her.

She shakes her head, “he doesn’t hate you.”

“It’s always the same with you, you always want more-“

“I want to see you,” Jameson yells, “is that so much to ask?”

“I will never be enough, you can’t just take me for who I am, what I am, what I need,” I shout back.

“What about what I need?” he questions, “I need to see you and it’s driving me crazy when we’re apart.”

“You need to find a coping mechanism then,” I reply, snarky and spiteful.

He looks at me with a look I’ve never seen in his eyes before. Pure unadulterated hatred. Like he wants me to burn on a thousand spikes after a session of torture.

“Fuck you,” he spits at me, his face so close to mine I can feel his anger.

“Piss off,” I hiss back.

“I will thank you very much,” he replies, swinging the door open.

“And don’t come home,” I snap, “I don’t want to see your face.”

“It’s not like you’ll notice, you don’t see my face anyway,” he calls, slamming the door shut behind him.

“What if this time he doesn’t come back,” I murmur, frightening myself more and more it’s each drastic thought that pops into my head.

“He will come back,” she soothes, continuing to rubbing small circles on my arm, “he always comes back to you.”

She has a point. Jameson always came back, he just needs time to cool off. I hope…

“You’re stronger than you think,” she whispers in my ear, like she can hear the doubts screaming in my brain.

“I don’t feel it,” I grumble.

“That’s what makes you even stronger,” Avery says.

“I’m crying over a boy,” I deadpan.

“Who hasn’t been there?” she smiles, wiping my tears away, “now come on, I’ll get the ice cream tubs, you grab the endless flow of blankets and pillows and we’ll have a movie night.”

I crack a small smile and nod as we stand up. She begins to walk while my legs struggle to follow.

“Avery,” I say, taking a small step forwards.

She spins around with a bright smile, “Yeah?”

“Thank you,” I exhale, “so much.”

sorry there haven’t been a lot updates lately I’ve been super busy 🤍🤍

TIG masterlist

[rivangel]

Suffocating

summary: Kenny doesn't know why he does things for some brat he met just months ago he wouldn't do for another soul, living or dead, but here he is, sacrificing the clothes off his back and seeing his dead sister in Levi's eyes.

c/w: not ship content, family bonding!…kinda, mild hurt/comfort , hypothermia, warning for kenny being the way that he is, murder (not shown), kid!levi, kuchel haunts the narrative

wc: 2.8k

a/n: a repost from my ao3. i never make a habit of posting non-ship content on tumblr, but i still really enjoy this one so w/e

The Underground’s air is always thick—a combination of mainly garbage fumes and death fumes—but the arctic state of the city in what is now the dead of winter isn’t helping. It’s not even as cold topside as it is here, even though there’s no snow, no freezing rain. Just freezing. Kenny breathes out a white cloud. Must have something to do with it being literally underground.

Kenny bitterly muses on his surroundings as he strolls down a deserted street like he owns it, which he sure as shit might as well.

He ignores the sparse blips of life within buildings of various states of decay. The way they were built, the structures all seem piled onto each block. And on this side of the lower districts, they resemble straight rubble. Most of everything’s gone to shit.

Kenny stuffs his hands deeper in his pockets. But it’s deserted, too, which is why when he had some business to take care of Above, he left the brat to his own devices around these parts. He’s not old enough or strong enough yet to wander all over the Underground. Only some months ago, he met the kid at death’s door.

Which is why Kenny narrows his eyes and pauses outside the dingy stone structure where the brat is supposed to be. The door is shut, and so is the ugly drape covering the hole in the wall that is an Underground window.

No light. Huh. Sitting in the dark, in this kind of weather? That’s a death sentence.

Silent, he creeps to the door, and peers into the dark crevice beside the handle. Deadbolt. Locked. As it should be.

With a cursory glance over his shoulder, he slips the key from his coat pocket, jams it in, and shoves it open, barging his way inside in case someone other than the kid is holed up here. "Hey, ANYBODY HOME?"

A dying lantern illuminates but in an inch of its surroundings in the far corner, around it a neat lump—a threadbare blanket.

“Hah…”

Kenny peers around the door itself to find the skinny runt, who's about as tall as the knob. Defending himself just like he taught him. He wears a hood, but there's no mistaking his height. His silver eyes are fierce and his pale face stony, clutching a dagger pointed right at Kenny’s crotch.

“Oh hey, runt. Miss me?”

His glare drops all its venom at once. In fact, the kid goes from standing straight to wavering on his feet. His arms fall, his dagger nearly dropping right to the floor.

Kenny blinks. "Hah?"

“Why didn’t you…? S'you.” The dagger clatters to the floor.

A little stunned at this display, Kenny goes even more stunned as the kid wobbles forward, suddenly panting for breath. He would've fallen flat on his face if it isn't for Kenny’s pant leg.

"Uh..." He blinks in understanding then, still staring. The kid’s too cold. He’s weak.

"Kenny..."

“You dumb runt. Do I need to teach you how to stay warm?”

“…M...Maybe…”

Kenny cocks his head, then realizes that that is something the kid might have to learn when he’s freezing to death and in a pinch. He's really not doing so well.

At least he's making conscious efforts not to shiver and come off as even more pathetic than clinging onto Kenny's leg like a squirrel. He should shake him off now and teach him how to act.

Kenny narrows his eyes. No, wait, the kid’s fingertips are blue. He should’ve noticed a second ago, the kid is so pale, and his pant leg black. He’s clutching, but the fingers don’t bend. He's not shivering because he can't.

The brat could die.

He doesn’t want the brat to die.

“Ah, shit, kid…” Kenny stares down at his dark mop of hair, letting some of the tone he always uses to scold him fall. “Shit. Uh…”

Kenny stands in place a little longer, figuring out how to go about this.

The kid isn’t moving, either. He hugs his leg like Kenny is his savior, but somehow also like he's ashamed of that.

So far, Kenny has only taught him a few things, but the kid doesn’t cling like this anymore. Hasn’t but a few times. With the knowledge of what ought to happen if he does, and the kid doing it even now, well, shit.

Silent, with an unreadable look—hell, he can't even decipher what his own feelings are right now—he slides his trenchcoat off his shoulders and pulls his arms through the sleeves.

“Let go, kid.” Kenny shakes his leg out.

The kid obediently lurches back as if he's just realized what he's done, tottering dangerously on his feet for a moment. Still breathless, he crosses his arms and peers up under his hood. Dull grey eyes are unfocused when they find Kenny's, waiting for instructions.

Kenny kneels down, and makes a face to mask this strange surprise at seeing the kid's cracked, blue lips. It's like surprise, but he wants to run straight away from the sight. “Hey... Yer shitty bangs are hangin' in your eyes again. What’d I tell you?”

The kid blinks at him, long and slow, not comprehending. "Uh..." Then his eyes start to roll back in his skull.

Kenny snatches him far before he falls with a swift inhale of the icy air, holding him up with one arm. "Levi."

Silence.

Kenny groans, and starts to shake him back and forth. "HEY, brat! Are you deaf or somethin'!? Quit it!"

"...Ugh..."

"Wake up."

The kid squirms a little.

"Stupid idiot..." As Kenny says this, he takes his coat out from under his arm and drapes the heavy cotton, warmed by Kenny’s body heat, over his small shoulders sideways, like a towel.

It absolutely engulfs the kid anyway, whose sleepy eyes widen. "Wait... This is heavy. Are we carry—carrying stuff?"

“Shut up," Kenny mumbles under his breath. He's really out of it. "Just hold it. I could fit three of you in this thing. Damn.”

Kenny glances at the weak oil lamp, which has gone completely dark since he arrived. "Get your head together, kid. C’mon. Is it warm, or what?"

"Yeah." The kid clutches at the coat as if it were his own skin, eyes tightly shut.

“...So you run out of oil, or were you savin’ it?”

Levi stares blankly at the wall. With time and warmth the coat provides, or maybe just the shock of what it is, he manages to string some words together.

"It-It wasn’t warm,” he answers. “SSSo I used it for... for light. Should be lots left.”

Kenny’s brows lift. “Huh. Not a bad idea, runt. That doesn't make up for your utter failure at not freezin' to death, but still."

The kid goes silent completely, his cheeks red, staring at his shoes. "How was your trip?"

"We're leaving."

On their way out, Kenny grabs the lantern, gritting his teeth against the cold he feels biting now. He doesn’t know why he gave his coat to the brat, besides the fact that he had no other choice. But that still feels odd. He'd never do this.

The kid makes a solid attempt at picking it all up so it doesn’t drag along the disgusting floor, but it drops one second later. Then he trips over it, and hits his knees, huffing and puffing.

Kenny hates the sight. “Goddamn, boy. You better hope you gain a few inches before yer older. You're damn pathetic. Stand. Pick it up.”

He obeys, trying again. “This is stupid.”

Kenny doesn’t like the smart mouth the brat is getting—probably from Kenny himself—but he doesn’t discipline him for speaking this time, a decision that shocks himself. He just hates seeing the kid so pathetic. His shitty mouth is going to come in handy growing up anyway.

Kenny stands, wielding the lantern's handle. “You know what’s stupid? Freezin’ to death.”

The kid looks like a snail hiding in its tan shell by the time Kenny promptly scoops him up under one arm. He makes a breathy squawking sound in response. “What the fffuck, Kenny…!”

Kenny walks out with him like a football. The kid never quits wriggling.

"I don't need yer help!"

“Tch. Shut up.”

Kenny finds a relatively small and desolate wooden shed out behind a condemned hostel, just a short walk away. It’s all dark in there, so they won't be caught here.

“Sit n’ stay, runt.”

Kenny drops him down like a stone and approaches the shed, slinging the lantern in one hand as he goes, and then in longer and longer arcs.

Then he hurls it. It crashes against the rotted roof, where the shiny sludge splatters and quickly begins to run down in rivets.

“Perfect fuckin’ aim,” Kenny mutters, and digs in his back pocket for his matches. "You alive back there?"

"No, I'm dead!"

"That was easy. Yer makin' me look like a bad teacher."

He scoffs weakly, and then they lapse into silence. Silence, besides some grunting that he hears down the block to his right.

Kenny internally rolls his eyes. Maybe he should get rid of the whore and whoever’s fucking her before he does this. Witnesses are bad, but the noises are even worse.

He strikes the match in one perfect try, and steps close enough to fling it at the thinnest tendril of spilled oil. As he back-steps, he watches with a perverse glee as a raging orange flame is born and races everywhere the oil touches, until—

WHOOSH.

An explosion of light and heat causes Kenny to throw his head back with his hands on his hips, cackling. It’s like a burning flower. The flames seethe and begin to crawl down all four walls at a steady pace.

Kenny tosses a look over his shoulder at Levi, who still looks like a snail bundled up in Kenny’s coat, standing there on the pathway.

He watches the fire with what Kenny can tell is an ambivalence he’s forcing. It occurs to him that he never told the kid what this was all about. Giving him the clothes off his back probably freaked him out, too.

The crackling’s since died down, so he can now hear the whore again, who’s squealing.

“What a buzzkill… Agh. Gross, huh?” Kenny comments.

The kid peers up at him with a genuine look of something shitty. “Tell someone who cares.”

“Jeez you're boring,” Kenny grumbles, and picks his dagger from his belt. “Siddown. Get warm.”

It’s not a hard task, but it’s not a pleasant one, either. The kid is half-frozen and Kenny was in the middle of a cool moment when these two ruined it.

He wipes the silver blade clean on the hooker’s kneesocks, feeling pleased that he got no blood on himself. The thick clouds of smoke billowing up from the fire is visible a block away, but everyone else must either be asleep, missing, or hiding. That's just fine. They’d do best to from Kenny the Ripper.

The shed is engulfed by the time he returns. The heat embraces him all the way from the hostel. Good. And in the short time Kenny was gone, the kid already looks a bit better than before. Shivering violently now, he sits tucked into himself. Light brings out the thin shade of blue in his eyes. He stares at the fire with a severe expression, as one would watch a murder taking place.

Kenny drops his gaze to his boots. The kid looks like the spitting image of his sister even now, evil eyes and all. Kuchel was scary when she got mad, usually at Kenny.

"Our voyeurs are gone."

"I d-d-didn't notice."

“Still cold?” Kenny shoots him a tired look. “Should I throw you in or something?”

He eyes Kenny with distrust. “I can’t tell i-if yer bein' s-serious.”

“I’m just sayin’ this won’t last forever. And that’s a nice coat yer drownin’ in. What’s the point of any of this if ya still can’t wait out the rest of the night? I could burn down that building right behind us, I guess... But the people inside wouldn't appreciate it."

“What’s d-drowning?”

“Huh? It’s when…” Kenny laughs bitterly and merrily plops down on the stone path next to the kid. “Fuckk, you don’t know a thing. She never read you any books?”

The kid is rendered silent for a long beat at the mention of his mother. Then he scoffs. “…No-Not about drowning.”

“Eh, good point.”

A bland silence. Kenny hoped that some proximity would be enough, but the kid’s skin is still ashen, his lips are blue, and he’s shivering on.

Kenny gives his back a shove. “Get closer, for fuck’s sakes."

“I j-just did what you t-told me,” he bites back, hefting up the shell yet again and squirming until he winces in the face of the roaring flames. “There’s this-this grey powdery crap. Disgusting.”

“Aw, it don’t bite,” Kenny retorts, not following. He's sweating. Even the very air he breathes is hot. “It’s just ash. It’ll wash off.”

More quiet. The kid’s teeth soon stop chattering, and he's sitting still. That’s better.

Kenny breaks the silence. “Drowning’s when you’re underwater too long. You run out of air, and eventually yer lungs fill up with water. Then you’re dead. Takes a while to do to someone else, though. Unless you got a lot of arm strength, it’s not worth the hassle if you got other options.”

Levi side-eyes him. It’s clear he still doesn’t understand the expression. “Even choking?"

"Even choking. Water drags you down."

"Is drowning for water only?”

“Whatever fills your lungs that ain’t air. Could be blood, or liquid shit, I guess, if ya wanna go there.”

“Disgusting,” he grumbles. “Can’t drown in this smoke?”

“No, you idiot. That’s suffocating,” Kenny explains. “Damn, you’re dumb. But hey, that's why I'm here."

"Hm."

"Nah, you know what? In this shit-hole, you could suffocate, I got no doubt.”

“Hm.”

“So,” Kenny sighs, big and loud. “You’re not gonna die now, right?”

A warm pallor has returned to the kid’s pale face, he’s even sweating, and the life is back in his silver eyes. Kenny isn’t sure why he asked.

“I’m fine,” he says impatiently. “You’re not my mom.”

Kenny’s lips part to retort, but nothing comes out. Apparently, the kid’s words reach the kid himself, as he stiffly shrugs off the coat, scoops it up, and shoots it at Kenny’s lap with a hard grunt. “And I got yer stupid coat dirty. Why would you do that, anyway!?"

“Levi…” Kenny drawls, his tone warning and severe. “You watch it.”

The kid whirls around, ready to shout, but Kenny beats him to it with a swift shove to his chest, causing the kid to go rocketing backwards into the ashen dust, dirt, and rock.

He doesn’t cough, doesn’t groan, just inhales swiftly like he felt nothing at all, as Kenny taught him, then climbs back up into a kneel. The brat has a lot to say, but he can't meet Kenny’s glare.

“Ungrateful shit,” Kenny says dully. He barely makes himself sound annoyed. “Just lookin' at you makes me sick. Get on the other side where I don’t have to look at you. Or go. Freeze to death if that’s what your mom would want.”

He inhales. "It's not like that... It's not. It's..."

He trails off.

Kenny pays attention to his peripheral as the kid turns around takes himself to another side of the fire.

Jeez, that was dumb. Why'd he do that? What did Levi want to say?

Kenny isn't about to chase him down and ask. He doesn’t know why. He just…

It’s not like that, the runt said. Kenny knows that all too well. His sister… Well, in a world as cruel as this one, he shouldn’t say she deserved to live and he deserved to die, but he can think it all he wants.

Kenny leaves that thought alone anyway. He should stop thinking about her. She's dead. He made his promise.

But hell, he can’t stop thinking about it. She’d be pissed if she heard him call Levi a brat, but he’s alive, isn’t he?

Nah. He wouldn’t have made it another hour. Maybe that’s why he just said what he said.

Even though dying’s not what he would want for this little brat, either.

a like and reblog is appreciated :)

| more attack on titan |

[alipeeps]

Episode 20

Goddammit Bai Jiu, you had better be pulling a double agent thing like Pei Sijing turned out to be or I swear I will never forgive you!

This flashback montage of how he lied to everyone is giving me the rages.

I can't help thinking about him just the previous episode telling Li Lun that Zhu Yan (who had gotten himself trapped in a demon-suppressing cage in order to protect Bai Jiu) "Zhao Yuanzhou is my best friend". Grrrrr...

Ugh, and the flashback montage of how he sealed Zhu Yan's senses is even worse! You sneaky, devious little shit, Bai Jiu.

Fuck's sake, they've been working towards this from the very start, right down to the list of people to be on the team...

I keep feeling like there is information that either I have missed or that simply was not presented in previous eps? Last ep they said Pei Sijing was the Prime Minister's representative - and I was like, eh? Since when?

And now Wen Zongyu says she's the Prime Minister's bodyguard?! I don't remember that ever being mentioned?

Oh fuuuuuuck!! So it WAS Chongwu Camp running that clinic with the imprisoned demons 8 years ago...

And 8 years later it is still the ever-burning wood - that Zhu Yan accidentally absorbed back then - that Wen Zongyu is after!

Well, the little shit does at least look a bit conflicted...

And.. right, okay, I watch a lot of cdrama, I know this is just how it goes, it's very common to have scenes where they stand around dramatically talking about their schemes etc and almost kinda waiting for the next move/attack to be made etc but really?

You've had it laid out in explicit detail that all they need to do is use a needle to seal your sense of touch and that's it, kiss your core goodbye, but you're still gonna just stand there and watch and wait for them to come at you with the needle? You could turn around and be out that fucking door in a heartbeat dude, why don't you?

Oh SHIT the entire room is painted with demon-suppressing charms?!!

Dude, just fucking RUN then - you can outpace a fucking 13 year old, surely?

Annnd now you can't do that because the cavalry has arrived to cut off your exit.

Pleeeeeeease tell me we're gonna get one of those famous GJM flashbacks where it turns out they suspected something and they planned for this?

Ayyyy teleport device for the win!!

And from the sigh of relief, Bai Jiu did not want to have to do this. But that doesn't fucking change that he has been doing it right up until this point.

Uhhhh is that not the Prime Minister's carriage that previously stopped for "Wen Xiao" who was blocking the road? Why is it now seeping blood as it passes along the street...

I guess Not-Wen Xiao was hungry eh?

Ahh Zhuo Yichen, Zhuo YIchen...

Yeah best not to pin your hopes on maybe's... this is a cdrama after all...

Situ's mansion? Am I having memory lapses again? That sound's familiar but I can't think why...

Oh and presumably it's because of Mr Situ who has just arrived in a panic. Can we assume the guards are here to arrest Wen Xiao for eating the Prime Minister?

Hold up, it's Chongwu Camp that have come for her? How come they keep coming around to enforce things on behalf of the Prime Minister?

Oh ya think?!!

Oooh she's clever...

Oh she's VERY clever! Ask Mr Situ to hide you in his mansion... where you can then search for the divine wood!!

Oooh dontcha just wanna punch that smirk off his face?

This fishpond is so fucking extra and I love it so..

Oh you've got a wife hidden away in a sealed fucking room have you bro? Bedridden and sensitive to light and wind, is she? That doesn't exactly explain why the room is literally sealed shut?!!

Oh and was that a glimpse of the inside of the room with branches in it?

Oh wtf wait is Mr Situ Bai Jiu's dad?! I hadn't connected the names before. So the mystery wife who is sealed away is Bai Jiu's mum? The one who we've previously seen footage of Bai Jiu crying outside her room as branches spread out from under the door? Is Mrs Situ a pagoda demon as I have previously theorised?

My god these two. Zhu Yan's like.. didn't expect you to be the subject of a city wide hunt.. impressive! And Wen Xiao's like... why shouldn't I be.. are you doubting my ability to excel?

Is poor Zhuo Yichen now the only one who doesn't know about Bai Jiu? Shouldn't somebody maybe clue him in?

Why would the crime scene carriage be sent to Demon Hunting Bureau when it's a) Chongwu Camp who are charged with arresting the alleged perpetrator and b) Demon Hunting Bureau could well be assumed to be biased in favour of Wen Xiao and not objective in assessing the evidence?

Yeah why has he been carrying that copy of the book around all this time?

Check out Sherlock fucking Holmes here making deductions about the owner of this book based on its appearance...

Ahhh finally the penny has dropped for Zhuo Yichen that they've previously encountered a demon who was able to appear as Wen Xiao...

Ayyy it's our favourite mountain god!!

Oooh you clever boy, you purified the yao water? Plan "repair the baize token" is back on track!!

Aaaaand yup Ao Yin is the demon Li Lun released from the cage at the clinic 8 years ago...

I sure hope that confidence is warranted. Maybe you should be... ohh I dunno... looking at how to unseal your 4 senses so that you are not still vulnerable to having the last 1 sealed?

And didn't I fucking say that somebody needs to warn Zhuo Yichen about Bai Jiu? Cos here the little fucker is and Zhuo dage has no fucking idea that he's a Chongwu Camp traitor.

Yeah you better run you little shit.

Oh man, that's badass. I love when we get a reminder of just how powerful - and scary - he really is.

Oh wait, lemme guess, Wen Zongyu promised him that whatever skanky research he is performing with demon blood - and that he needs the ever-burning wood from Zhao Yuanzhou for - can cure whatever's going on with Bai Jiu's mum?

Goddamn this kid is such a good actor though. It's killing me that we may never get to see his portrayal of Xia Sini/kiddy Chu Wanning in Immortality - he will have fucking nailed it, I'm sure.

FUCKING CALLED IT!! That bastard promised him to save his mum if he joined the Demon Hunting Bureau and sealed Zhu Yan's 5 senses.

Oh fuck the baby Xiao Jiu actor is super fucking cute!!

Uhoh is that a blood moon? Is it (again!) the same one from 8 years ago where Zhu Yan wigged out?

And did Bai Jiu's pagoda spirit mum also lose control of her powers during that blood moon?

Oh dang so his name is Situ Jiu and he chose Bai Jiu when he went to train under Wen Zongyu.

And again Wen Zongyu said his mum was killed by a demon. Is that a mis-translation? Like... is she ill... or dead?

And I still think she was not so much killed/made ill by a demon as... she is a demon and she lost control/something went wrong...

She's not dead or ill she's.... a tree!

Fucking knew it!

What on earth was the point of keeping this from him all this time though Mr Situ? Ffs...

Ah-ha!! Mummy was not just a demon, she was half-demon, half-god, like Ying Lei... and that's why Bai Jiu had divine power... and why the pagoda demon said he was lying when he said he was human...

Oh wow, she's proper old school demi-god too, as old as the gods...

Ah fuck so it was the same blood moon and it was the disappearance of the baize token that injured her and made her revert to her true form. So... presumably fixing the baize token might also fix her?

(And if she is descended from the same source as the divine wood... would wood from her tree form serve as the divine wood needed to repair the token? And is that why the clues about the divine wood were rumoured to be hidden at Situ mansion?)

That is a very good fucking question.

Why the FUCK didn't you tell your goddamn son what was going on Mr Situ, instead of leaving him hurting all these years and wide open to being manipulated by the bad guys?!!

You fucking tell him Zhuo Yichen.

Fucking kid's got more guts and responsibility than any of you bloody adults.

But Xiao Jiu, sweetie, can I please recommend that you put all of your clever medical knowledge to immediate use to fucking unseal all that you've done to Zhu Yan so that he is no longer vulnerable to being sealed by a single fucking needle?

Ah fuck... was that ending Chongwu camp closing in on them while they were all having a heart to heart?

[whatsaudreythinkingabout]

a little late to the party (at least on here) but

HERE SHE IS!!!

THAT’S MY BABY!!!

MY FUCKIN CINNAMON APPLE!!!

finally…blorbo from my shows…she’s back…

[lemongogo]

they should get to kill each other at least twice .i think

[svtskneecaps]

ok among my favorite parts of qsmp is the fact that charlie slimecicle can only hold the act of being mad at mariana when mariana isn't in the room. like he successfully rp'd being mad at his deadbeat puta esposa for months while mariana wasn't logging on, like he complained about mariana at the wedding, during the election, in subsequent appearances, and then he's messaging mariana in the chat during purgatory and he's still holding it

and then they're both at spawn like as close to face to face as they get. and bro CANNOT hold the act it drops so fast lmfao he was like "yea cellbit i'm gonna kill mariana" and instead they have a genuinely heartfelt conversation and then rp sexo in the fountain

and i know i'm brainrotting purgatory rn but i'm actually thinking about this bc i saw a clip of mariana and slime talking during the awards show and literally. slime's face goes from 😡🤬 MARIANA'S HERE, SAY SOMETHING PUTA ESPOSA to 😄😁 the second mariana shows up on the screen

like he's still pretending to be mad but dude is grinning like absolute crazy and i love that

[labyrynth]

so um anyway jiang cheng canonically does not consider wei wuxian a servant—let alone “just a servant”—and does not treat him like one. idk where this idea came from but it is factually untrue.

in fact, jc repeatedly indicates that he thinks wwx’s station is on par with other gentry, that he likes the idea of being part of a pair with wwx, and even jokes with wwx, mocking the notion that wwx could be a servant.

after wwx was taken in, they were functionally raised as equals, and there is nothing in their interactions as youths that indicates or even hints that their relationship was master/servant instead of simply childhood friends.

and obviously wwx is not sect leader, so yeah, he is expected to defer to jc after the war, (and that’s not an inherently bad thing, that’s how leadership works) but jc lets him get away with SO much shit that Would Not Fly if wwx were a servant (or treated like one). if jc only regarded wwx as a servant, there is literally no reason to be as lenient as jc was with wwx’s loose canon tendencies.

i’m sorry, but there is simply no valid reading of their relationship where the dynamic of their relationship is master/servant. their relationship simply is not built on obligation, as much as they both try to act like it. this assumption undercuts a huge amount of context and motivation, leaving nonsensical character decisions and gaping plot holes. there is no mdzs unless they care about each other as individuals.

[bleaksqueak]

While i work I've been listening to an LP of the Telltale Walking Dead Games (the ones with clementine, I do not care about the others lmao). Ages ago when I played these I was well aware/amused that part of season 2 takes place in Parker's Crossroads/Parker's Run because I grew up right next to it and the detail stood out to me. But I never caught the line of "We'll head to parker's run. It's just up the road from here" until just right now. So I had a sort of "wait, where the fuck are they supposed to be right now?" (search)

ARE YOU SHITTING ME LMAO So by process of elimination, since it's the only city with anything even remotely resembling a large home supply store, that would mean they're in my literal hometown. My tiny hometown in the middle of nowhere that's never in anything that barely anyone knows of. How in the fuck lmao

[beatcroc]

Thoughts on the incident?

[witheredgardenparty]

I will never forgive a single one of you

[waywardsalt]

with my phantom hourglass replay, there are two things i noticed;

a possible theme you could glean from the game is action vs inaction, and i think it's especially prevalent before you even leave mercay the first time, with oshus frequently urging link to not go after the ghost ship, then to just wait until the broken bridge is fixed, and seems reluctant at every turn while link and ciela are more than eager to go and do something about this problem, and the people of mercay in general talking about things and their problems but never seeming to act on their fears or desires, as well as the mention that due to the ghost ship, very very few people are still sailing around, while linebeck is one of the only people we see in the game actively going after the ghost ship and still sailing around. i might make a longer post just talking more about the action vs inaction in phantom hourglass but i just noticed it a bit and thought it was a bit of an interesting sort of theme you could find in the game.

linebeck moves so fucking much. i think he moves more than any npc in the rest of the game. not just in his intro cutscene where he is very animated, just in how much he moves when just standing in his little idle post, it's damn near distracting when the camera is focused on him, he moves a lot. i don't think i've really acknowledged how much he moves, and it really gives the impression that he's antsy or eager to get going, both of which fit him pretty well with how he acts.

[smile-files]

just a kind word for all of you lovely folks out there: if you say the r-slur or you don't call out your friends for saying it then i hate your guts :)

[j-esbian]

i lost the post but i saw someone talking about how some of y’all act like being weird is a choice and like. YEAHHHHHHH.

that’s fine, it might be for you. but i just live like this and don’t know any other way. like yeah i’ve worked customer service, i can do innocuous small talk, but anything beyond that, i don’t understand what i’m missing. and it’s frustrating to see the tonal disconnect especially from people who are like “uwu embrace weirdness!!” where they’re like. dressing quirky and talking about bugs and listening to obscure music and eschewing small talk to ask Deep Questions on the first date and unlearning their tendency to not infodump. and generally have an idea of what Weirdness is supposed to look like. idk man some of us wake up and get out of bed and can’t figure out why the rest of their coworkers chitchat with each other but when they join the conversation it dies.

weirdness is value neutral. let’s stop trying to turn it into a badge because quite frankly, it’s not a choice for everyone. it’s fucking exhausting to never be on the same wavelength as other people and they’re going to react the way they do and label you the way they will without any conscious actions on your end. it’s difficult to talk about this without feeling like you’ll be dismissed as immature, a teenager whining “no one understands me” but the thing is. sometimes you don’t grow out of feeling alone and different, and there’s no good way to talk about it without feeling like people will think you’re just fishing for pity.

[jils-things]

i went wandering off in my pokespe gallery and had to relieve how wonderful this scene played out. no kidding

please dont read the tags i got emotional there /lh

[fellhellion]

i don't personally agree with the perspective that "miguel NEEDS to partially correct about canon events, otherwise he's a villain" because like. setting aside the issue of possibly naturalising the irl choices writers made (e.g. fridging gwen) through the concept of 'canon events', to me defining miguel's morality comes down to two questions:

What is Miguel's intent when pursuing his goal? <- it's unambigiously heroic. he desires to save people. and -

Can I plausibly understand how he has come to the belief system (and therefore goal) he has? Yes. I can understand why, when viewing the things he did (universal patterns of suffering between spidermen & the trauma of that dimension collapse), he came to the conclusion he did.

Keep in mind the other bits of information we and the characters are working with are:

Anomalies seem to affect the world they're in (Vulture appears to affect the Guggenheim's structure w glitches)

They're also in danger of dying if they don't have a stabaliser like the watch

But say for the sake of argument Miguel is completely wrong about breaking canon and doing so would not endanger anyone and the alt dimension collapsed for reasons utterly out of Miguel's knowledge or control. That still doesn't negate the heroic intent he operated by nor his desire to save people.

What "How much or little is Miguel correct?" affects is how tragic it makes Miguel's guilt and the moral concessions he feels that guilt about. Whether you would argue for it being needlessly tragic or bleak is another conversation entirely but how correct he is about what damage canon events cause doesn't actually change the fact he operated on sincerely good and heroic intentions.. And I think atsv already sets up that last point in an understandable manner.