#illness the illness has befallen me

[kiwibirdlafayette]

update last life changed me. there is something physically wrong with me now /pos

the level of insanity i am experiencing with bdubs life series character i get it. Im starting to really get it

[ef-1]

thinking about daniel again

[thelikesoffinn]

When the doctor asks you what's wrong and you look at your mum like:

[momo-shut-the-fuck-up]

My ln and sn dias twinningg 💅💅✨️

[istherewifiinhell]

I really meant to get outta here before shit hit the fan you know?

[acxa-kogane]

college: hello! we’ve been trying to reach you about your lab report’s extension warranty-

me, under 4 weighted blankets, burning with fever hot enough to rival icarus: sorry babes, I’ve only got snork mimi on my schedule. Try again later xoxo <3

[talafamily]

My name is Doaa, and I carry the weight of a family trapped in the crucible of war in Gaza. With me are my husband, Wissam, and our three beloved children: 9-year-old Tala, 7-year-old Sajid, and our youngest, 18-month-old Sanad. Our tale is one of endurance, displacement, and the relentless pursuit of safety amidst the chaos of conflict.

The Prelude to War:

Before the storm of October 7th, our lives in Gaza were a tenuous balance between hope and despair. But with the outbreak of war, our world crumbled beneath the onslaught of bombs and gunfire. For 220 days, we lived in constant fear as the violence engulfed our city, leaving behind a trail of destruction and death.

A Perilous Journey:

Our journey began In the heart of Gaza City, where we fled our home In search of safety. Seeking refuge, we found ourselves at Al-Rantisi Hospital, where the threat of attack loomed large. When the hospital became a target, we fled once more, seeking shelter in another hospital, where fear and illness afflicted our bodies and those of our children.

The Trek to Khan Yunis:

With nowhere left to turn, we embarked on a treacherous journey on foot to Khan Yunis. With bombs raining down around us and no food, water, or medicine to sustain us, each step felt like a gamble with our lives. The 7-kilometer trek was a test of endurance, as we braved the dangers of the road in search of sanctuary.

Displacement and Desperation:

Upon reaching Khan Yunis, we found ourselves thrust into a new nightmare. The danger intensified, driving us to flee once more, this time to Rafah. Here, amidst the biting cold, we found shelter in a tent, our only protection from the elements. But even here, the threat of war looms large, casting a shadow over our fragile existence.

A Daughter's Struggle

Adding to our burdens, my daughter Tala has been suffering from hypothyroidism since birth. Her condition weighs heavily on my heart, a constant reminder of the fragility of life and the need for urgent medical care.

The Price of Freedom:

In Rafah, the specter of war still haunts us, threatening to unravel the fragile threads of hope we cling to. The cost of leaving Gaza through the Egyptian Rafah crossing stands at $5,000 per person, an insurmountable barrier to our journey to safety.

A Cry for Help:

We are a family on the brink, teetering between despair and hope as we navigate the tumult of war. We plead for assistance, for a chance to break free from the cycle of violence and rebuild our lives in peace. With your support, we can overcome the trials that have befallen us and emerge stronger on the other side.

Conclusion:

Our journey is far from over, and the road ahead is fraught with uncertainty. But with your compassion and generosity, we can rewrite the ending of our story. Together, we can pave a path to safety and stability for Tala, Sajid, Sanad, Wissam, and me, ensuring that the horrors of war remain nothing more than a distant memory.

@buttercuparry @appsa @schoolhater @sayruq @malcriada @palestinegenocide @sar-soor @akajustmerry @annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @brokenbackmountain @tamarrud @4ft10tvlandfangirl

@queerstudiesnatural @northgazaupdates2

@skatezophrenic

@awetistic-things @camgirlsurvivalguide

@baby-girl-aaron-dessner @nabulsi @sunfortune

@junglejim4322 @heritageposts @heritageposts

@palipunk @dlxxv-vetted-donations

@illuminated-runas

#free palestine #palestine #free gaza

#gaza strip #donations #gazaunderattack

#gofundme #important #...

[yuesya]

“Cursed? What do you mean, cursed?”

Sanemi narrows his eyes at the blue-eyed, white-haired girl. The one who’d just wandered in and said that Oyakata-sama wasn’t sick, but cursed instead, with the sort of tone that indicated what she’d said was supposed to be obvious.

Your oyakata-sama isn’t sick. He’s cursed.

… The hereditary illness plaguing Oyakata-sama’s bloodline was one that constantly, incessantly ate away at their body, causing their health to deteriorate at a rapid rate. All children of the bloodline died young –and yet, it did not prevent each and every one of them from devoting themselves to the never-ending war against man-eating demons.

Sanemi was aware that Oyakata-sama’s health was… deteriorating. Rapidly, even, which was not something that he liked thinking about. And yet, it was a fact that all demon slayers were forced to face, because it was the cold reality in front of them.

“Your oyakata-sama is cursed,” the strange girl repeats herself, far too calm and uncaring for Sanemi to be at ease with her presence. “I presume that’s why you’re looking for a sorcerer.”

… A what?

The nonsensical word throws Sanemi off-kilter for a moment. Judging by the faint confusion that he can see on his fellow Pillars around him, Sanemi is not the only one with this reaction.

“A sorcerer… is that what you are?” If Oyakata-sama is surprised, his level voice does not betray a single hint of it. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that term. What you say is true; a curse has befallen my bloodline. The priests said that a demon had been born of our blood. And until the demon is dead, no child shall survive into adulthood.”

“I see,” the girl says, summarily polite, her expression unmoving.

“The reason why we’ve been searching for you is because you killed a demon,” Oyakata-sama continues. “Without use of a nichirin blade, and in the dead of the night –you killed a demon. Upper Moon Three, to be precise.”

The girl tilts her head, “Upper Moon?”

… She didn’t even know what an Upper Moon was? Was she being serious?

Sanemi watches, faintly incredulous, as Oyakata-sama pauses briefly… and proceeds to explain what the Moons are to her.

The Demon Moons are the most powerful demons under Kibutsuji Muzan’s command, their hierarchy measured and separated into different ranks based on strength. Upper Moons, and Lower Moons.

“… and demons, with their high regenerative abilities, are impossible to kill unless they are either decapitated, or exposed to sunlight.”

All of this should be common knowledge for a demon slayer. But her lack of knowledge about it… reminds Sanemi of himself, in a way. Back when he’d first started hunting demons, that is. He hadn’t had a clue what he was getting himself into, but he’d known that demons existed and devoured humans –and so he’d attempted to kill what demons he could, fighting them with mundane tools and relying on sunlight to burn them to ashes.

If he hadn’t been found by a demon slayer who inducted him into the corps and got him proper training, Sanemi would’ve gotten himself killed by his own recklessness, eventually.

But… evidently the same did not hold true for this girl. Who was somehow able to kill demons without either sunlight nor nichirin steel.

How?

How was something like that even possible?

“You want me to kill demons for you,” the girl’s voice is distinctly unimpressed. And the phrasing of those words is enough for Sanemi to gnash his teeth and scowl, because what did she mean by that–

“Demons are a danger to all humans!” he snaps at her. “Don’t talk as if Oyakata-sama is–”

“Yes.”

Sanemi whirls around, aghast. “Oyakata-sama!”

“It’s alright, Sanemi.” Though faint, there is still an ever-present smile curled over Oyakata-sama’s lips. “Whether it’s for me, or for anyone else… that is what I’m asking of her. With the skills she has shown, she would be a valuable ally in finally eradicating the King of Demons once and for all.”

“Why should I help you?”

The words themselves are arrogant, condescending, and yet none of it shows in her voice. If anything, the girl’s voice is as calm and neutral as ever in sharp contrast to what she’s saying, and–

“Is there anything that you desire?” Oyakata-sama asks.

“…” Blue eyes stare out at Oyakata-sama, unreadable. “… A binding vow. I’ll kill your demons for you, and you help me find a way home.”

[edges-of-night]

Hii! <3

I wanted to request imagines for reader taking care of the lotr characters (preferably all, but if that’s too much then at least the women and maybe Aragorn and Faramir too) when they’re sick/injured for whatever reason

(I love your imagines so much, the way you characterize them all is so perfectly amazing💜)

Thank you for your kind words! I did all of my usual characters because I love hurt/comfort and sick!fic scenarios that much haha! I hope you will enjoy your post ♡

Have a great weekend everybody!

CW: injuries and illnesses, mention of blood

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

While Aragorn’s heroic sacrifice didn’t cost him his life, it took a heavy toll on him. Lucky for him, you’ve spoken often enough about medicinal herbs and healing practices – you are able to take great care of him, bedded on his white linens. Even when he is still too weak to speak, Aragorn will hold your gentle hand.

.

･ﾟ✧ Arwen.

You return so often to Arwen’s bedside that you wonder if it would be easier to just stay – but you know that privacy and rest are just as important as her wish to hold your hand. Whenever you’re with her, you tend to her wounds or read her passages from her favourite book to make her smile, which Arwen appreciates immensely. As she rests, she plans on properly kissing you as soon as she’s healthy.

.

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir hates that a common cold has him chained to the bed for over a week now. But he’d lie if he said he didn’t enjoy you taking care of him – even though you do tease him and his constantly red nose from time to time. It’s all in good fun though, and he cannot wait to hold and kiss you again!

.

･ﾟ✧ Elrond.

When Lord Elrond returned to Rivendell injured, your heart skipped a beat – he is the most skilled Elvish healer around – who else could treat the gaping, magical wound in his side? The honour is bestowed on you, and you master it despite your nervous mind. Nothing is greater encouragement than finally seeing Elrond’s summer eyes greet you again ♡

.

･ﾟ✧ Éomer.

The Rohirrim have all kinds of names for the strange fever that has befallen their dear Éomer – but no methods of healing. They consider it an impossible challenge for you to tame his feverish, sweaty body and nonsense mumblings. But, somehow, the horse lord calms whenever you reach his bedside, sighing when you change the wet cloths on his forehead and rest your hand on his chest.

.

･ﾟ✧ Éowyn.

Initially, Éowyn thinks nothing of the cut she got during sword lessons. But days of ignoring the wound on her hand could put her in grave danger, you know that – and thus offer to take a look and do what you can. At first, Éowyn protests, but she falls silent as soon as you turn her hand in yours, unaware of how soft her expression grows… She admires your medical knowledge, too! “Is there at all something you cannot do, you marvellous creature?”

.

･ﾟ✧ Faramir.

It takes days for Faramir to wake up. Many others believe him doomed and have given up on sitting by his side, trying new herbs and waters, only to see his crystal blue eyes open once more. But you have the matter-of-factly patience of a boat pushing its way through a deadly ocean. And indeed, on a moonlit night, Faramir’s gentle gaze awaits when you return to his side, whispering, “Thank you for believing in me, my love.”

.

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

Sometimes you wonder if you are the only person to have consideration for both the physical and the mental wounds Frodo has endured. You always make sure he’s fine and support him when thoughts of the big scar on his chest sends him to dark places inside his mind. You both know that those wounds take much more time to heal than the cut itself, and Frodo is more than glad to have you by his side. To soothe him, you caress the scar.

.

･ﾟ✧ Galadriel.

Ever since a mysterious malady has befallen Lady Galadriel, Lothlórien is in turmoil. No one would even let you near her – until she ordered her guards away, to allow you to treat her with your medical and arcane knowledge. In fact, you become the only one she wishes to see in her elegant rooms at all. Despite her current weakness, her ethereal beauty and soft smiles make it hard for you to concentrate…

.

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

Out of breath, you hurry to Gandalf’s beside with that one legendary flower needed to cure him. He insists you be the one to prepare the potion, too. Day and night, you try to perfect his medicine, always worried his state might get worse. When Gandalf finally drinks your potion, the wound on his chest closes magically. But it’s nothing to Gandalf, who has trusted you entirely: “I never doubted you for a moment, my dear.”

.

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

After Gimli’s accident in the mine, you were right by his side to ensure his head injury wouldn’t get much worse. His headache is hurting badly though, and your proud Dwarf is but a shadow of himself. He knows rest would be best for him, but it’s hard for him to stay away from work and banquets alike. Still, he appreciates that you pamper him with his favourite baked goods and healing kisses on his head ♡

.

･ﾟ✧ Haldir.

Haldir is not an easy patient, but that doesn’t stop you from treating his catastrophic shoulder, which he has ignored for days on his way through the woods of Lórien. Spread onto linen sheets beneath you, he grunts and cringes – as much as his half-dead stone face can, that is – under both your touch and your harsh words. But deep down, he knows you were simply worried – and honestly, he doesn’t quite know how to deal with that!

.

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

It seemed inevitable that Legolas would someday break a leg because of his acrobatic archery skills, and yet you are surprised. Elves heal quickly, but Legolas suffers greatly under his involuntary immobility. You help him by recounting his favourite quest stories and eventually by supporting his first tentative steps outside, which he thanks you for with the stormiest embraces ♡

.

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

Merry thinks he can walk of anything – even an injured knee. He doesn’t want you to think of him as weak or unable to take care of himself. But even Merry can only play down a limp for so long. Truth be told, he is actually relieved that he no longer has to hide the pain, and that you spreading balm on his knee is no ordeal but in fact a very sweet gesture.

.

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

Pippin has been sneezing and stumbling for days, eventually falling into bed with the biggest groan you have ever heard come out of him. He is a “suffering” patient and you know it. But while Pippin greatly enjoys you pampering him with food, tea and blankets, he secretly cannot wait to take care of you in return – no matter if you’re sick or not! “It’s you’re not actually sick, or else I couldn’ave kissed you!”

.

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

Gardening involves many dangers, and although Sam has been practising it since childhood, he eventually hurts himself on his gardening knife. The cut is deep and won’t stop bleeding, but you are quick to bandage it and remind him to change the fabric once a day. But Sam has trouble keeping his thoughts straight, when all he can think about is you holding his hand in yours, all close…

[sugarphoenixlovesfanfic]

× . bite . ×

synopsis: Dan Heng is befallen with a temporary illness that turns him into a vampire for a week. The only way to temporarily alleviate him of his bloodlust is to let him drink off of you, but as his wife can you convince him to do so? tags: f!reader, vampire Dan Heng, reader is a bit of a masochist, no smut, 1.5k words a/n: tagging @coupsworth because you suggested I write about dan heng being a vampire in this post, thank you!

ao3 link here!

[Sanguinary bats:

[A type of mammal that loves to feast on the blood of living mammals. It transmits a disease via its bites, Vampyroa, which is extremely effective on humanoid species. The disease usually takes place a week after the bite is made, and the affected grows sharp fangs and an unnatural bloodlust. There is no immediate cure for Vampyroa, however, Vampyroa often goes away after about a week within experiencing symptoms. Those who have caught the disease are advised to stay in rooms of their own, and to only consume water and red meat. Giving in to their bloodlust is ill-advised, yet drinking blood from another humanoid species does not transmit the disease or have any consequences apart from those that come with general exposure to foreign blood/blood loss on the victim’s side. In fact, the imbibing of another’s blood will sate the “vampyr” for up to a day.]

You gently push open the door to Dan Heng’s room.

It has been a week since the bat attack, and although the Astral Express crew had been prepared not to let any of the bats come into close contact with them, Dan Heng unfortunately suffered a single bite. The rest of the week from then on was spent in anxious anticipation of the “turning,” as March 7th referred to it. Dan Heng, upset by her constant use of that word, shut himself into his room entirely, only allowing you, his wife, in.

Last night, the symptoms had started to appear, as Dan Heng woke you up in a cold sweat. When you flicked the lamp on, you saw that his eyes glowed a soft red, and his canine teeth were longer than usual. He told you to sleep in another room, not wanting to put you in danger of himself. You refused, but he insisted upon it, so you let yourself be moved into another room.

Now you turn up at his door with a steak, prepared rare, and a glass of water.

“Dan Heng,” you say. “It’s me.”

“Don’t come in,” you hear him command, his voice husky.

“Too late,” you say, pushing the door open further with your foot.

You thought you had prepared yourself for seeing him, but your eyes widen at the scene laid before you.

In the dark room, you can make out Dan Heng curling on his mattress, in Vidyadhara form. It’s clear that his turning is affecting his internal balance, causing him to shift into his dragon self. His clothes are shrugging off of him, as though he was trying to shed them, exposing his skin. His long dark hair curls around him in strands and ribbons, framing his face, as he gazes blankly towards the ceiling, panting.

His eyes meet yours, and you see something else within them.

“Here’s your breakfast, Dan,” you say, setting the meat and water on his desk.

“Thank you.” Dan Heng speaks as though he’s holding back. “Now leave.”

“…Okay.”

You leave his room before he has a chance to pounce on you.

After that, Dan Heng insists on having anyone else but you deliver his next meals, so you reluctantly let Welt and Himeko deliver his lunch and dinner. At night, you peek into his room.

“Don’t come in,” he says, sensing your presence. He’s sitting in bed with a book, a single dimly lit lamp giving him only enough light to read. The rest of the room is shrouded in darkness.

“I miss you,” you say. He pauses, putting his book down and looking up at you.

“I miss you too,” he says, his tone gentle and soft.

“Why won’t you let me come to you?” you ask.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I’d never forgive myself if I did.”

You linger in the doorway for a few moments more, then make up your mind.

“There’s nothing that can keep me from you,” you say, walking into the room towards him.

Immediately he grows tense, and you can see his fangs peeking through his lips.

“Don’t come any closer,” he says, but you get on the bed next to him and wrap your arms around his chest.

“I don’t care. I wanna be here.” You shove your face into his side, savoring his warmth.

He growls, a rumble deep in his chest you haven’t heard before. When you look up at him, his eyes and horns are glowing, his eyes red.

“If you stay at my side like this, I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to hold myself back, darling.”

“What will happen if you don’t?” you ask.

“To put it simply… your blood looks tantalizing.” Dan Heng licks his lips. You gulp, feeling blood rush to your cheeks. “It’s hard enough for me to hold myself back from everyone else, but you…you entice me like no other.”

Dan Heng breathes softly, his gaze on you heated. “You know…it might be better if you let me drink from you.” Immediately, he puts a hand on his mouth and turns away, as though horrified at what he said. “I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, intrigued.

“If I drink blood from someone,” Dan Heng says, his horns gently illuminating the walls a soft blue, “my hunger would be sated for about a day.”

There’s a pause as you consider this information.

“So, you’re saying that I would be helping you by letting you drink my blood.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t—”

“I’ll do it.”

Dan Heng widens his eyes at you, and you can see a dark hunger gleaming within them.

“You would?”

“Yes. It’s not like you need to drink all my blood, right…?”

“No, no, I don’t require that much.” Dan Heng reaches for you, then stops himself. “I can’t.”

“You can. I give you permission.” You take his hand in yours and he grips onto it almost painfully. “Besides, I’m a little curious.”

“Curious?”

“As to how it would feel.” You grin at him. “I mean. It would probably feel similar to all the other times you sank your teeth into my neck.”

Dan Heng is too focused on your neck to notice the innuendo you made. He runs his tongue against his fangs as he drills holes into you with his eyes, looking a bit dazed.

“So, you’ll let me?” he asks after a pause. “You’re sure about this?”

“Yes.” You bare your neck to him with a smile.

Dan Heng’s reaction is instant, one arm wrapping around your chest to pull you closer, while his other hand comes up to grip your neck, steadying it. He brings his face close to your neck, pauses for a moment, then begins licking it. You shudder at the sensation, preparing yourself for what comes next.

Then, delicately, ever so gently, he buries his face into your neck and sinks his teeth in, the twin points sharp enough that you only felt a twinge of pain. You could feel as blood pooled out of you and onto his waiting tongue, constantly lapping and picking up any wayward droplets.

The act feels intimate in a way you had yet to encounter, and your eyelids flutter at the sensation of teeth and muscle working together. You wrap your arms around his body, one hand cradling the back of his head as he drinks from you like a man starved. And then, almost as soon as he had started, he pulls away, giving your neck a few last licks before the puncture holes are sealed. You notice the look in his eyes are clearer now, and he looks a little healthier than when you found him.

“Do you feel better now?” you ask.

“Much, much better.” Dan Heng sighs, a sound of relief and contentment.

“I hope this doesn’t give you a taste for blood after your sickness wears off,” you say, and giggle at the look of horror on his face. “Don’t worry, that’s not a side effect you have to worry about. Welt told me about it.”

Dan Heng looks at you, narrowing his eyes.

“You…knew. About the blood drinking.” he says, realization dawning in his eyes.

“Well…I can’t say it wasn’t my intention tonight to get you to quench your thirst off me.” You grin, having been caught.

“Wh-why—” Dan Heng starts, then stops himself. “Nevermind, I know why. You’re a masochist.”

“I just wanted to make you feel better!” you protest.

Dan Heng gazes into your eyes, his stern expression melting into a gentle smile.

“I know.”

“The masochism might have played a teensy weensy little part in my decision as well.”

“I know.”

“I love you.” You wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his chest.

“I love you too,” he says, stroking your head gently. “Always.”

“We will be doing this until you’re cured, by the way,” you say.

“Not if I have any say about it,” Dan Heng huffs.

“You don’t,” you say, smiling.

Your dragon husband lets out a resigned breath, but you can tell he’s relieved by how far you’re willing to go for him.

dividers by @cafekitsune

comments and reblogs appreciated!

[manicpixiefelix]

Felix is definitely whiny and a big baby whenever he's sick so Reader is taking care of him and making him homemade soup.

(where do i keep finding these?? also warnings for Felix and Reader being cute and domestic while Felix has a cold, if that icks you)

"I'm going to make you sick," Felix mumbled as he gingerly held the bowl of soup you'd brought him in both hands. He had otherwise cocooned himself in every single blanket both he and you owned, so now you were sitting directly next to him, despite the awful cold that had befallen him. Your own bowl of soup cooling on his nightstand, you'd chosen instead to keep reading your book while letting it cool down.

"I'm going to make you sick," you mock in a high pitched tone without even looking up from your book, much to Felix's dismay.

"Hey!" But it doesn't sound quite right with his stuffy nose, "you're being mean to me, you're not allowed to be mean to me, I'm sick."

"Felix, I've caught every cold, flu, and stomach bug you've had since we started secondary school together," you look up, giving him an exasperated smile as you reminded him of your shared history in the matter, "and vice versa." Considering for a moment, Felix sulks defeatedly, blowing with only mild effectiveness, on his soup. After a moment, you go back to your reading.

"Did I give you mono in sixth form?"

"Farleigh gave me mono and I gave it to you," you corrected idly, to which Felix only had a noise of discomfort as his answer. "For the record, I never mind if you make me sick," voice going quiet and genuine for a moment, you feel Felix shift beside you, resting his head on your shoulder, "I'm just glad you let me take care of you, it's worth it to get a little sick, and I know you always take care of me when you're better."

"'course I do," Felix sniffles a little, and you automatically pause your reading. Putting your book down, you reach over to grab him a tissue, taking his bowl of soup in the trade so he didn't spill it as he blew his nose. Struggling to lean over you for a moment, he tosses the tissue in the bin by the bed before taking back the soup with thanks, "and I will," he only sounds marginally better for the moment, "promise I'll bring you so much soup." Despite his state, his voice is warm and fond, and for a moment, you lean in and steal a quick kiss from him with a grin.

"I'm so gross right now, and I'm going to get you so sick!" He protests, but the flush on his cheeks isn't all the illness's fault. Picking up your book, you shrug with a casual, teasing smile.

"I was gonna get sick anyways."

[peachdues]

COALESCENCE — RANDOM SNIPPETS

Levi x F!Reader • secret pregnancy AU

I feel bad I haven’t updated anything for Coalescence recently — so have some random snippets from Part I. I will return to Coalescence once Part III of my Demon Slayer fic, In the Netherwood, is complete.

CW: MDNI • mentions of injury • pregnancy • NSFW sneak peek at the end • Hange being Hange • Hange also finds out that Levi x Reader have been fucking and Reader is now pregnant • Levi eats pussy like a god

Death was far quieter than you’d imagined. It was dark, perhaps even peaceful. An endless oblivion amidst which you floated without form; weightless.

When you’d lost unconsciousness against the rubble that was once the Main Street of Trost, you’d accepted the very real — and likely — possibility that you would not wake up again.

In your youth, death had been nothing more than an abstract concept; something that happened only to the elderly or those who caught illnesses that could not be treated, or even to those who ventured beyond the Walls.

As a soldier within the Survey Corps, however, you’d learned that death was as certain as the sun even if you might not live long enough to see it rise.

And, having spent the last eight years of your life fighting on behalf of the Corps even as your comrades dropped like flies around you, you knew you’d long overstayed your welcome in this world overrun by titans.

So when everything had begun to fade to black as you laid broken on chunks of stone and brick, you thought death had finally come to collect on the debt you owed. You supposed you were grateful that your final moments were not spent struggling in the grip of a titan as it brought you to its open, salivating mouth.

Really, it wasn’t such a bad way to go, dying from injuries sustained in an explosion — even if the explosion had been caused by the stupidity of one of your own. You could make peace with it; you almost had.

Almost.

The one, nagging thought you’d had as the world around you melted into dark oblivion had been of him — of your dark-haired, brooding boyfriend, who was likely miles away from Trost and utterly unaware of the disaster that had befallen the district; that had befallen you.

Levi, you’d known, was going to be pissed when he found out you’d gotten yourself killed, after he’d told you, so many times, to avoid doing exactly that.

As much as you’d hoped he could find it within himself to forgive you, you knew he wouldn’t, and truthfully, you didn’t think you could forgive yourself. You knew how every face of your fallen comrades haunted the Captain’s waking hours — how their screams plagued his precious few hours of sleep.

And now, it seemed, you would only be adding yourself to the festering wound he carried on his heart; so no, you probably didn’t deserve his forgiveness anyways.

It would’ve been nice to see him, one last time — you would’ve taken one of his fierce verbal lashings, if it meant hearing his voice one last time.

There was nothing you could do, however but resign yourself to death’s beckoning embrace, to fade into the nether and dissolve among the stars —

A buzz broke the quiet black of your oblivion.

You frowned; the buzz seemed to grow louder with each dull thud of your heart. You wanted to bat it away, make the silence come back and sink into the calm stupor you’d been floating in once more.

But the buzz was incessant, growing louder until you realized it was not a buzz at all, but voices. Many voices, speaking over one another in hissed, urgent tones.

“Get me a sponge, I can’t see where all this blood is coming from —“

“— Did you see her bloodwork? She’s at least ten weeks along, she’ll need to be discharged immediately —“

“That’s assuming the fetus has even survived —“

“Shush, I think she’s coming to; someone get Squad Leader Hange —

The voices melted together above you, their grate making the ache in your head grow steadily more piecing with each passing breath.

With far more effort than you wanted to believe it would take, your eyes slowly opened, struggling to adjust against the harsh overhead light of the Trost infirmary.

That light, however, was quickly blocked out by a shadowy figure leaning over you, far too close to your face for you own comfort. Your eyelids fluttered as the figure above you sharpened into focus, revealing a pair of large brown eyes blinking owlishly down at you.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, soldier!” The unmistakable voice of your Squad Leader chirped. “Glad to have you with us!”

Your lips, dry and cracked parted to answer her, but you could do no more than respond with a strangled, pained groan.

The surface upon which you’d been lain — a cot, by the feel of it — dipped as Hange Zoe climbed atop it, legs carefully straddling your hips to keep their weight off you, as the Squad Leader leaned in close to your face.

“Squad Leader — you can’t —“ a nurse tried.

Her admonition fell on deaf ears. “You had me worried there, Y/N,” Hange’s began, fingers peeling back your eyelids to check the dilation of your pupils.

“You were in rough shape when Braus and another cadet pulled you free from that toppled building.”

You tried to ask how long you’d been out, but your mouth struggled to form around the shape of the words. Instead, all that came out was a garbled string of nonsense.

“You have a concussion, that’s for sure,” Hange said smoothly, fingers prodding at a tender spot against your temple.

“But that’s not the most important thing — Y/N, did you know you’re pregnant?”

That single word broke through the addled fog clogging your head.

“Preg—?” You managed, your tongue thick in your mouth.

Hange appeared to interpret the furrow of your eyebrows as a lack of comprehension rather than shock. “Yes, preg-nant. There is a small clump of cells growing inside you that will become a child —“

You grimaced. “N-no,” you tried. “I had — an implant —“

You heard the nurses desperately plea with your Squad Leader to get them down from where they’d perched upon your cot, but Hange paid them no mind.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, doll, but they aren’t always one hundred percent effective. It’s rare, but it happens.”

Under normal circumstances, you would have cursed your luck. Of course you’d end up being the exception.

“I can’t say I’m excited for you,” Hange continued, though it appeared they had been finally persuaded to remove themselves from your cot. The Squad Leader deftly stepped away from you, coming around the edge of your bed to take a clipboard from one of the nurses.

“You’re my best Scout; your pregnancy means I have to discharge you. No exceptions.”

You struggled to keep your eyes open, unconsciousness creeping in once more. “Is — am I still —?”

Hange looked up from your medical sheet, eyes softening. “Yes, Y/N, though you’re not entirely out of the clear, yet.”

You didn’t know whether to be relieved or not; part of you relaxed at the assurance, but until you could talk to Levi —

Levi.

Fuck, Levi.

You hadn’t known of your — condition — until mere seconds before, which meant Levi sure as hell had no clue that your birth control had failed, and you were now carrying irrefutable proof of the relationship the two of you had concealed for the last year.

Levi.

You needed to tell him, and fast; before it was too late to address the problem.

Levi.

There was nothing you could do at that moment as the world around you began to dim once more. Try as you might, your body was unable to fight off the sleep that crept in and began to tug you under, despite the urgency with which you thought of your need to get in contact with the Captain as soon as possible.

Levi. You needed to talk to Levi.

But the Trost infirmary slipped away, the voices of nurses and of Hange fading to the same buzz which had brought you back to consciousness the first time.

Before you slipped below the waves of sleep, you heard your Squad Leader’s lone gasp.

“Motherfucker-“

—-

(Levi’s POV)

Levi’s eccentric comrade emerged from the small examination room, a pensive look on their face.

Levi hadn’t given much thought as to what he would do if he ran into any of his colleagues among the upper ranks of the Scouts. His mind had been exclusively focused on her, and the news that had shaken him to his core.

He remained pressed against the corridor wall, for once uncertain whether he should make his presence known or stay still until Hange wandered away, leaving him to slip into the examination room unseen.

But the section leader had always had a peculiar sense as to when he was near, and so with a slight sense of foreboding, Levi watched as Hange’s head turned towards him, eyes as round and as bright as an owl’s.

“What a surprise it is to see you here, Levi.”

Levi kept his features neutral. “Is it?”

Hange’s expression was inscrutable. “What a day, huh?” They folded their arms across their chest and leaned against the doorway leading to her — to Y/N.

“A titan breach, gross incompetence by the Garrison causing even more casualties and destruction,” Hange counted off the day’s events on her fingers. “And to top it all off, the best scout on my squad not only got injured because of said incompetence, but she’s also pregnant.”

It took everything in him to keep his voice even and monotone. “Sounds like you’ve got quite the headache. The paperwork to discharge a scout is tedious at best.”

Levi brushed imaginary lint off the shoulder of his cape. “Better go get a move on.”

A strange smirk tugged at the corner of Hange’s mouth.

“I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything about who the prospective father is, have you?”

There was a beat. “No.”

Hange’s smirk turned into a grin. “Poor thing has a concussion — it’s small, don’t worry,” and Levi knew his face must have tightened. “But the funniest thing happened while the poor girl was coming in and out of consciousness.”

Levi’s fists clenched slightly at the feral glint in their eye.

“It was almost hard to hear what she was muttering, the poor dear,” Hange finally kicked off the door jam and moved to saunter past her raven-haired comrade.

“I didn’t realize you were on a first-name basis with my scout, Levi.”

Levi’s voice dropped to a near whisper as they brushed by him. “Hange.”

“It seems the pregnancy is still viable,” the section commander said quietly.

He couldn’t stifle the faint exhale of relief which left him at their reassurance. For as shocking as the news of her pregnancy was, Levindidnt want to think about the mental toll a miscarriage could have wrought upon you.

Or himself, for that matter.

“You can go in,” Hange’s voice interrupted is slight reprieve. “I’ll make sure no one comes this way for at least a few minutes. But you can’t stay long — Erwin wants to see us.”

—-

“Well, congratulations!” Hange boomed, clapping the Captain sharply on the shoulder. “Good on you for working to restore the human race!”

A muscle in Levi’s jaw ticked. “Hange—“

“I guess the moniker ‘humanity’s strongest’ doesn’t just apply to your combat skills —“

“Hange.”

“— I’m talking super swimmers —“

“Oi. Four-eyes.” Levi pulled on the eccentric squad leader’s ponytail to command their attention. “Enough.”

—-

(NSFW bonus)

“You’ve gotta speak up, sweetheart,” Levi mocked between teasing kitten licks against your outer folds. his breath was hot as he exhaled against your damp core. “I’m waiting.”

You felt frustrated tears gather in the corners of your eyes. With an impatient whine, you rolled your hips towards him desperately, eyes wide and pleading for him to do something to fill the empty ache you felt within.

“Not good enough,” Levi growled, tongue lazily circling your entrance, twitching away every time you jerked your hips towards his mouth.

“Levi, please, I—,” you choked off with a frustrated whine. “You’re not being nice — I’m pregnant —,”

The stoic Captain pulled his mouth away from you entirely, rocking back on his heels. From between your thighs, Levi studied you, a renewed heat flaring to life in his steely eyes.

“You are, aren’t you?” He conceded, his eyes locking in on your mouth as you sank your teeth into your bottom lip and mewled. “And all because of me.”

Levi’s eyes dropped back down to your core, slick and aching, ready to take him however he wanted.

“And what kind of father would I be if I made the mother of my child suffer unnecessarily?”

Any response or yearning plea you may have answered him with died in your throat as Levi surged forward, his tongue plunging deep within your entrance, his nose pressing right against that sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs.

You just managed to slap your hand over your mouth to stifle the scream he pulled from you as the Captain began to fuck you with his tongue.

You considered yourself to be somewhat an expert on the eccentricities of Levi Ackerman. You knew he preferred two scoops of leaves for his morning cup of tea, but only one and a half in the evenings. You knew when he bathed he followed a precise routine, always washing himself twice before his hair, and that he always used two towels to dry off because he hated trailing water beyond the washroom.

You knew that he was dust and dirt’s greatest nemesis, and that even the slightest bit of clutter or disarray set his teeth on edge. You knew he loathed sharing any space with the cadets because no matter how many times he threatened them, they never seemed to remember to clean up after themselves properly.

You’d learned all of these quirks slowly, over years of proximity and tentative friendship with the brooding captain. You’d coveted each new discovery like some precious jewel, squirreling it away in a mental folder labeled “Levi,” that you periodically turned to whenever he was stressed or on his last nerve.

But there had been one attribute of his that you hadn’t learned about until after your relationship escalated — after he’d hauled you up onto his desk for the very first time and fucked you stupid.

And that insight was this: Levi, Captain of the Survey Corps’ Special Operations Squad and Commander Erwin’s right-hand soldier, ate pussy like a man possessed.

“You’re doing so good, doll,” he groaned between lewd smacks of his mouth against your syrupy folds, his lips and teeth alternating in their ministrations against your clit. “You’re so damn good, giving me a baby, making a father out of me.”

Hearing Levi not only acknowledge your pregnancy but speak as though he were excited the pair of you were venturing into parenthood together made the coil in your belly tighten.

Levi’s hands clamped down around your shins, guiding your legs until they bent at your knees before pushing them up and level with your hips. His fingers splayed around your calves, he used his grip to rock you back and forth against his face, allowing your juices to smear across his lips and jaw until his skin was shiny with your arousal.

He hummed in response to the staccato of “oh fuck, oh fuck — Levi —“ which fell from your lips until you could no longer remember how to form words.

His eyes remained open and fixed pointedly on your face, those gray irises tracking every twitch of your mouth and pinch of your brow. The louder your strangled whimpers became, the harder he moved you, until you were nearly sobbing for him to let you come apart on his tongue.

more levi content soon, babies!

[readychilledwine]

Limbo

Summary - You would never be able to move on from your untimely death. Not while the two males you loved kept you trapped here.

Warnings - reader is unable to move on, angst, Rhysand's red flag moment from ACOFAS, Tamlin's depressed, lost mates

A/N - I was watching the Haunting of Hill House and fell in love with the concept and parallel created in the episode between two storms, and I decided to use that concept with this

Tamlin Masterlist

It really was not their fault.

How were the two males she loved the most supposed to know that spirits couldn't rest when anger involving them lingered this deeply? You sighed, watching Rhysand and Tamlin argue for what had to have been the 100th time since your death.

You held no ill-will towards Tamlin. Not now that you knew the truth. It had been a poorly planned attack from your father, hoping to remove the issue he believed Rhysand was meant to become to his place as High Lord.

Everything had been so meticulously planned by your father. Every detail had been set into perfect stone. Almost every detail, at least.

Your father had forgotten to account for you and your mother. The fool had believed the Spring Lord and his two oldest sons would find Rhysand long before they found you and Lady Night.

The rest went down in history.

Your mate was forced to watch you die, forced to carry your wings back to Spring, forced to watch his father splay them out over his desk.

You should have been allowed to rest when Tamlin burned them, mourning you with the loss of the last piece of you he had, but you couldn't.

You would never be at peace, watching them scream at each other, watching them fight, watching the love that used to burn so brightly between two friends dying out. “Enough,” your voice was a soft breeze in Rhysand's ear. “Rhys, enough.”

They didn't stop, though. They never did. Especially now that Feyre had been involved. It was another loss for Tamlin. Another goodbye. Another death. Another moment he felt the Mother had long turned her back on him.

“Ignore him,” your voice wasn't a whisper for Tamlin. It wasn't a soft breeze. It was there, in his heart, warming him. “Let him feel his rage. He has the ability to find the truth, My love.”

That phantom tug hit him, calming him as he sat broken, berated by Rhysand over a female he didn't truly want anymore.

All you could do was place your head near his, never able to fully touch him, never able to truly comfort him. “I am. I'm always here.” You just can't see me, you thought bitterly.

He tugged. He tugged knowing he would feel nothing on the other end. But the message hit you full force, I wish you were here.

It did not take long for Rhysand's anger to grow. Becoming louder and louder until it hit a boiling point. Lethal quiet came from him despite you knowing he wanted to scream, “You deserve everything that has befallen you. You deserve this pathetic, empty house, your ravaged lands. I don't care if you offered that kernel of life to save me, I don't care if you still love my mate. I don't care that you saved her from Hybern or a thousand enemies before that.”

“Enough, Rhysand!” The warning went unheard. As it always had. As it always would.

“I hope you live the rest of your miserable life alone here. It's a far more satisfying end than slaughtering you.”

“Please,” you begged. “Just, stop. Please stop.” Another phantom tug had Tamlin sighing before he shifted and walked away, leaving Rhysand there alone. “Rhys, please. I'm right here.”

“Enough!” Glass shattered on one of the windows, causing both males to jump. “That's enough!” Had they been paying attention to more than just their own anger, their own mourning, their own love clouded by hatred, they would have noticed the faint smell of lilac and starlight lingering in the air. But, as you had grown used to, neither noticed.

He winnowed away as you reached for him, ignoring the chill he felt as he did and leaving you alone again. You let out a laugh as the bond, so full of cruel life, tugged on your end again. I wish you were here, it repeated.

“I am,” you cried. “I'm right here.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys

[amkalus]

Looking for Potential Audience

Heya, I'm new to Writeblr world and willing to give it a try. Would anyone be interested in reading an adventure fantasy YA novel set mostly at sea? After being rejected 50+ times, I am considering potentially self-publishing it (and wondering if it'd be worth the trouble).

I have longed to have a heroine who represents this technically incurable health issue, given it affects one in every ten women. And I've longed for a story that encapsulates what it feels like to be hopelessly in love with the sea... so I wrote one.

The Sea Whisperer features:

FMC dealing with symptoms of PCOS [severe acne, suicidal depression, infertility etc.]

Enchanted lighthouse with a mysterious lighthouse keeper [there is sea magic involved]

Thousand-year-old prophecy and sea monsters

Old maps, leather-bound journals, and a pet sea hawk

Tall ships! lots of sails and ropes action

Friendships between women

Extremely subtle F/M romance

Sea Shanties

Island kingdoms and castles with opulent ballrooms [Anti-Colonialism Theme]

Here is the premise: The fishing village of Galacair has been the only home Earwyn’s ever known. Between the mysterious illness that plagues her and the villagers who consider her cursed, surviving gets harder with each dreary day. But there are whispers coming from the sea which ceaselessly beckon her, and an ominous vision of a calamity that haunts her dreams. Earwyn fears they could be a part of her illness too, and that madness has befallen her. The only one who seems to know something about it is Galacair’s lighthouse keeper, whose tower is as strange and remote as he is.

While I mainly wrote this story in dedication to all the PCOS women out there like me who are struggling to live with this and often failing, I also wanted it to be a personal tribute of mine to a lifetime spent by the sea, and to a family history filled with the adventurous spirit of mariners.

[dark-and-kawaii]

༺ 𝒪𝓃𝑒 𝐿𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉 ༻

Raphael x Tav/Reader

Summary: You had failed to leave his house of hope in peace. During your last moments, Raphael ceases the fight and offers you one last contract.

Angst - Death

Raphael stopped abruptly. Your little form was heaving with the effort of breath, your hair matted with blood. In a snap he had cleared the room, allowing it to be just the two of you.

Raphael whispered, his voice laced with a tenderness that belied his devilish reputation, “Look at what ill fate has befallen you, little mouse.”

Your eyes fluttered, struggling to focus on the towering figure that loomed over you. "Raphael," you breathed, your voice a mere rustle against the marble flooring. "I fear my end is near, all thanks to you.” You let out a weak laugh, “And to think, I’m not even upset by it… I betrayed you afterall." You smiled weakly at him.

Raphael knelt, his elegant attire gathering dust, uncaring. You gasped for breath, each one a shallow battle against the inevitable. His face, usually a mask of impeccable composure, betrayed a flicker of distress. He had grown fond of you…

Raphael's eyes, dark as the void between stars, flashed with an intensity that could sear souls. His voice a smooth melody that belied the chaos of his nature. "There is a way to mend your wounds, little one. A way to grant you life anew," he offered, extending a slender finger towards you.

Your breathing hitched, hope mingling with apprehension. "At- at what cost?"

A parchment materialized in Raphael's hand, along with a quill, the feather as black as the darkest night. "A contract. Sign it, and you shall be healed. You shall have life. But you will remain by my side, within these walls, for all your days."

Your heart sank, a weight pulling you further to the shadow of death. At last, you sighed, a decision resting in your eyes. "To be with you, yet not as I am, not as your equal or lover but as a possession? This is the paradox of your kind nature, Raphael.” Your eyes closed as you gathered strength to continue, “You offer life but dictate its terms." Tears, like diamonds, formed in the corners of your eyes, “A cage, even gilded, remains a cage, dear Raphael. And though I’ve come to be fond of you, I cherish my freedom to roam wherever it is I please."

Raphael felt the sting of your words, “Freedom is a precious thing, indeed," he mused, his sharp eyes softening. "But what is freedom to the dead?"

Raphael's hand finally touched you, a caress as light as a falling leaf.

With the last of you strength, you reached out, your much smaller hand touching his. "true love does not chain, let me go. I shall cherish our moments in the flutter of my final breath… Even if it ended like this, I’ll still cherish it."

Raphael's hand trembled, an imperceptible quake that would have gone unnoticed by any but the most observant. "Then, so be it," he spoke, the quill and parchment vanishing into the ether. He wanted you to beg, to call out to him to save you, to hold your weakened arms up to him and ask for forgiveness, but none of those things happened…

He watched, with a heart breaking in silence as you, his little mouse, closed your eyes for the last time…

[eldritch-spouse]

I have fallen ill please send thy sluttiest men to comfort me as I wallow in despair

My dearest anon,

I am nothing if not the most zealous of basement-dweller caretakers, so it saddens me greatly to hear that illness has befallen your precious self.

Rest assured that, at this very moment, I am packaging my raunchiest, nastiest, thirstiest and cuntiest mansluts to assuage your mysterious ailments. They should be delivered post-haste, in pristine but certainly not very clean conditions -For, as you know, putting one too many monsterwhores together may result in them "frolicking" together mid-journey.

Wishing you the swiftest of recoveries,

Pinnie Pinpin of Pinnieland.