#oh you must be so unhappy the way you live etc

[toxintouch]

crazy idea… what ab ais and vere with someone whos kinda obsessed with monsters?? like they study them for a living. idk where you would go with this but i just thought it would be interesting!!

it was indeed very interesting, anon, tysm for sharing!! ["You" pronouns used! to make it easier for me to use the plural "they"]

MONSTER 101:

✦ They both start out assuming that your interest is more suggestive in nature. That your insistence on "studying” Monsters is a smoke screen for your true desire to "consort" with them.  So they are both waiting for you to ask something–shall we say?–uncouth.  In fact, they have a little bet going…  

Realizing that you are just legitimately interested…

They are both intrigued, though it comes in different flavors.

✦ For Vere, it is somewhat begrudging.  He appreciates your ability to look past rules and accepted conventions.  (There’s Monsters aplenty in Eridia but few humans are trying to understand Monsters, and of those near none are willing to be open about it due to fears of social ostracization.  And even then, there’s usually some other motive at play…)  Vere's unhappy to find he has a slightly high opinion of you.  He really didn't mean to.

✦ He hates that a lot of his seduction techniques and attempts to catch you off guard or otherwise make you react are ineffective because you will just intellectualize them.

✦ Any time Vere mentions you studying monsters he says the word heavy with implication. “Studying.  Is that what they're calling it, nowadays?" Including after he’s realized it isn’t like that; he’ll still imply it whenever he gets the chance.

✦ (The bet is still on, by the way.  The fact that they’ll have to lead you into asking something questionable to win is just added spice.)

✦ And Vere is impatient to win.  Plus, he’s curious to see what makes you tick.  What button does he have to press…?

✦ He starts offering increasingly more and more inappropriate things.  (In the vein of tail tugging, etc.)  All to toy with you further your academic achievements, of course.

✦ Until he finally asks if you'd like to see him hunt.  

✦ And that sends a thrill of a shiver down your spine–you can’t sort out if it’s due to fear or excitement.

✦ He sees your reaction and oh, isn’t that just delicious?

✦ Your instincts react before you fully understand why, gooseflesh covering your skin, the prickly feeling of your muscles flexing minutely making your hair follicles rise.  You’re confused for a moment, your mind trying to make sense of the sudden surge of adrenaline–you’ve been so focused on Vere’s silky words that you didn’t even realize he’s gotten so close, that he’s starting to circle you, his eyes focused, pupils contracted.

He hums, inspecting you, turning your face this way and that, his neat claws skimming against you making you quiver.  This close, you can see his pupils expand slightly, the way his jaw trembles just the slightest amount after he takes in a luxurious whiff of your scent.

Like he’s hungry,

   like he’s starving

“Perhaps someone should study you for a change.”

✦  You’re breathless.  Your mind scrambles for a moment before picking back up.  What was that feeling, just now? You’ve read about this before, but–to experience it first hand–(and live)!  You gush at Vere about how the experience was both everything and nothing like your studies have described.

✦  Of course, hearing Vere’s age is amazing to you–he’s such a unique source of information, he’s seen so much, he’s so old!  But then, getting that information out of him is difficult on the best of days.  And the information you do receive is difficult to sort through.  Vere’s not exactly the most reliable narrator; you spend a lot of time trying to figure out what’s true and what’s an embellishment or elaborate joke.

✦ The idea that this is a job for you means that somebody must be paying you for this information. "You do plan on sharing the wealth, don't you? Dangerous things happen to those who don't keep their sources well fed."

✦ Ais admires your willingness to explore information, think things through for yourself and form your own opinions.  After dealing with Mhin hating him for “no reason”, it’s a breath of fresh air.

✦  Ais’ personality tends to be a lot more straightforward…  

✦  But when the information you’re curious about isn’t something he wants to disclose, he’s not above being unbearably vague.

✦  You ask Ais’ age, since Vere was willing to disclose his (kind of–you know he’s been around since Eridia was "a miserable little smear") but Ais keeps leading you in circles. 

✦  “Cumulatively?  Might take me a while to count that high.  Lot of group inside this mind.”

✦  He’s not above teasing you either.  “More questions?  If you’re not careful, I’ll start to overthink your interest.”

✦  He does wonder what you're hoping to achieve with this knowledge. What's your goal? Do you even know? "Be careful with that curiosity of yours. Some might find it...impolite."

✦  He realizes that he tells you to be careful... a lot. And he tells himself that he's not responsible for your safety, but...

✦  Will challenge you to earn your answers from him. He's not interested in money, but he can't just be handing things out for free to you all of the time. So: "What's it worth to you?" Is there anything you think you can beat him at? Or maybe you know something he'd trade for. A new language? A secret?

✦  If there's any kind of mutual attraction…  He’s actually kind of frustrated when/if none of your questions appear like they are going to turn in that direction.  He’s not looking for a commitment, but he hates the feeling of ambiguity between you two.  Makes him restless. If you give him any type of indication, though, or if your questions ever do stray away from the academic, he’s asking you if you wanna literally fuck around and find out.  He hates a will-they-won’t-they, he finds it tedious and annoying.  Unless…it comes with a competitive edge.  If it’s a war of attrition, a challenge of 'who will break first'…? That’s a game he’ll consider playing.  For the right reward. Hope you’re willing to deal with the consequences, though.

✦  He thinks it’s funny how you have so many questions.  Avoiding answering them is even more amusing, though. 

✦  Is he nocturnal?  ("Who said I sleep?") What are the interpersonal dynamics like between Monsters? Can he confirm the existence of nonverbal communication cues (scent, atmospheric changes, etc.)?  (“Yes.”) Will he tell you what they are? (“No.”)

✦  He avoids having you at the Sea Spring, though he never outright tells you that you aren't allowed there. And he's not very forthcoming about the topic. He's openly disinterested, in fact. If you don't take the hint, he'll tell you he's told you everything there is to say. Take the hint, alright?

✦  Your curiosity about Monsters extends to his Soulless too, doesn't it?  If it didn’t, it’s about to.

✦ He takes you out in the wastes one day so that you can meet Princess and the others. Just on the outskirts, where no one will bother the two of you. He has to show Princess off. "I wanna show you her tricks."

✦ Petting Princess is...interesting. It's amazing to be able to get this close to a live Soulless without fearing for your life. The texture of her is unlike any other creature. She's sleek, leathery. Your brain fights the proximity at first. It's hard to divorce yourself from the idea of danger but you push past it to pet her. (You hear Ais make a little hum at that - surprise, approval. You can't tear your eyes away from the Soulless in front of you long enough to check his expression. There's the ghost of a smile on his face when you finally manage.)

✦  And the fact that she purrs... He hears you talking to yourself about how that's absolutely fascinating, the implications, do the Soulless communicate (unprecedented information!) or is this something specific to the Sea Spring? Wait, even if it is Sea Spring specific, why does she have the anatomy to make a purring vocalization? It's not like the Sea Spring changed her physically...? Although... maybe it did...?

✦  Ais can admit that your scholarly tangents are endearing. You could have chosen a safer interest/profession, though. One less likely to get you into trouble. But you've survived this far. Maybe he should give you more credit.

✦  Needless to say: being around them both at the same time...they're more than just a handful. (Don't say that to Vere. The handjob joke makes itself.) They are terrifying as a team, constantly bouncing off each other trying to mess with you.

✦  And about that bet...they suppose they could share the win. If that's what it takes.

[anghraine]

Okay, the previous Star Trek poll wrapped up with a close but pretty obviously inevitable victory for the Uhura/Chapel kiss ... but while I'm in the TOS trash bin, another poll concept struck me. I'll add the full quotes/episode citations below, but I wanted the people's opinion:

1— "The Immunity Syndrome"

I've noticed that about your people, doctor. You find it easier to understand the death of one than the death of a million. You speak about the objective hardness of the Vulcan heart, yet how little room there seems to be in yours.

The context: in this episode, the Enterprise arrives in the area just in time to see, but not prevent, the deaths of 400 Vulcans on another Starfleet ship. Spock psychically experiences their deaths, and spends much of the episode quietly upset and grieving, while McCoy is just kind of a dick to him for 90% of the episode.

2— "The Galileo Seven"

MCCOY: Well, I can't say much for the circumstances, but at least it's your big chance. SPOCK: My big chance? For what, doctor? MCCOY: Command. Oh, I know you, Mr. Spock. You've never voiced it, but you've always thought that logic was the best basis on which to build command. Am I right? SPOCK: I am a logical man, doctor. MCCOY: It'll take more than logic to get us out of this. SPOCK: Perhaps, doctor, but I know of no better way to begin. I realize command does have its fascinations, even under circumstances such as these. But I neither enjoy the idea of command, nor am I frightened of it. It simply exists. And I will do whatever logically needs to be done. Excuse me.

The context: I've talked about how TOS is so often Spock vs. Microaggressions, but this episode is like... what if that were an entire episode and the bigots were really stressed, okay.

3— "The Naked Time"

My mother—I could never tell her I loved her.

An Earth woman, living on a planet where love, emotion, is bad taste.

I respected my father, our customs. I was ashamed of my Earth blood. Jim, when I feel friendship for you, I'm ashamed.

The context: a bunch of the crew contract a disease that causes their inhibitions to drop, bringing out repressed but strongly-felt emotions and/or desires. This means swashbuckling for Sulu, Riley fantasizing about ruling the ship as an Irish king, Kirk admitting to his feelings for Janice Rand that are eclipsed by his feelings for the Enterprise, etc. But Spock without inhibitions is just profoundly unhappy and, well, ashamed.

4— "The Corbomite Maneuver"

BAILEY: It's blocking the way! SPOCK: Quite unnecessary to raise your voice, Mr. Bailey. All engines stop. Sound the alert. [a little bit later] SPOCK: And when the captain arrives, he will expect a full report on— BAILEY [sharply]: The cube's range and position. I'll have it by then. Raising my voice back there doesn't mean I was scared or couldn't do my job. It means I happen to have a human thing called an adrenaline gland. SPOCK: It does sound most inconvenient, however. Have you considered having it removed? BAILEY: Very funny. SULU: You try to cross brains with Spock, he'll cut you to pieces every time.

5— "The Conscience of the King"

SPOCK: Apparently, he [Kodos] had his own theories of eugenics. MCCOY: Unfortunately, he wasn't the first. SPOCK: But he was certainly among the most ruthless, to decide arbitrarily who would survive and who would not, using his own personal standards, and then to implement his decision without mercy. Children watching their parents die. Whole families destroyed. Over four thousand people. They died quickly, without pain, but they died.

The context: this is the "Kirk is a genocide survivor" episode, in which Spock notices enough unusual behavior from Kirk to go investigating. He's horrified by what he finds, and horrified about the harm and danger to Kirk specifically, and repeatedly tries to convince McCoy of how bad the situation really is. He is also firmly on team "your memory isn't deceiving you, this guy is totally Kodos and you should launch him out the airlock."

6— "The Enemy Within"

Being split in two halves is no theory with me, doctor. I have a human half, you see, as well as an alien half, submerged, constantly at war with each other. Personal experience, doctor. I survive it because my intelligence wins over both, makes them live together. [To Kirk] Your intelligence would enable you to survive as well.

7— "Shore Leave"

SPOCK: Very well, captain. Something I did come to discuss. KIRK: Yes, Mister Spock, what is it? SPOCK: I picked this up from Dr. McCoy's log. We have a crewmember aboard who's showing signs of stress and fatigue. Reaction time down nine to twelve percent, associational reading norm minus three. KIRK: That's much too low a rating. SPOCK: He's becoming irritable and quarrelsome, yet he refuses to take rest and rehabilitation. Now, he has that right, but we've found— KIRK: A crewman's right ends where the safety of the ship begins. That man will go ashore on my orders. What's his name? SPOCK: James Kirk. Enjoy yourself, captain.

The context: Kirk is obviously exhausted and refusing to take shore leave with everyone else, despite McCoy trying to badger him into it. Spock manipulates him into it far more effectively, and is clearly smug about his success.

8— "The Squire of Gothos"

TRELANE: You do realize, don't you, that it's in deference to the captain that I brought you here? SPOCK: Affirmative. TRELANE: I don't know if I like your tone. It's most challenging. That's what you're doing, challenging me? SPOCK: I object to you. I object to intellect without discipline. I object to power without constructive purpose.

9— "A Taste of Armageddon"

SPOCK: Then the attack by Vendikar was theoretical. ANAN: Oh, no, quite real. An attack is mathematically launched. I lost my wife in the last attack. Our civilization lives. The people die, but our culture goes on. KIRK: You mean to tell me your people just walk into a disintegration machine when they're told to? ANAN: We have a high consciousness of duty, Captain. SPOCK: There is a certain scientific logic about it. ANAN: I'm glad you approve. SPOCK: I do not approve. I understand.

10— "Operation: Annihilate!"

KIRK: Sam. It is my brother. Was my brother. MCCOY: I'm sorry, Jim. The boy's unconscious, but he's still alive. KIRK: Peter? MCCOY: I'd better get the boy and his mother back to the ship. I can't do much for them down here. KIRK: Get ready to beam up. MCCOY: McCoy to Enterprise. Prepare to beam up party of four. SPOCK: Captain, I understand how you must— KIRK: Yes. Yes, Mr. Spock. You heard my sister-in-law say something about they being here. Your guess. SPOCK: Notice the ventilator, Captain.

Spock's approach to comfort tends to be figuring out some concrete or pragmatic assistance, or loyally defending someone, rather than trying to reach out in such a direct emotional way. Kirk (like Spock himself tends to be) can't really handle it and Spock immediately shifts to making himself useful throughout the episode, enduring excruciating pain, high danger, and blindness.

[doudouma]

“spending eternity with you…”

soft kokushibo relationship headcanons!

______________________________________________

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

my delicate flowers, to the poll i have ran, kokushibo was the winner〜! thank you for the votes, it’s was very fun! i hope you all enjoy the headcanons of himothy himself〜 i will too!

slight mention of k!lling (not to my dearest reader, of course〜), apologies about that, my dear lotuses.

i will keep it gender neutral. ❀〜

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

a man of principles.

the finest gentleman, he is.

kokushibo, a demon that has lived for 480 years, knows that things comes and goes.

he isn’t much bothered by that.

but you?

you are his forever. his partner. his soulmate.

inseparable, i must say〜

“i desire to spend eternity with you… by my side. commitment and communication… is useful to this relationship, and i value it… above else.

yes, kokushibo is big on commitment and communication, it’s very crucial. what a loving couple♡〜

kokushibo… kokushibo…. such an amazing lover…

keeling down on one knee to give delicate kisses on your knuckles, soothing words that ease your concerns, gifts and poems that leave you delighted, and i could just go on.

so i will〜

holding you closer to him whenever something seems unsettling, listening to all of your thoughts - good or bad, ensuring that your health is always up.

you see what i’m getting at?

to say it directly, kokushibo is simply.. husband material〜

he’s a very loyal man, so i must say that he will not leave you, and would anticipate that you will not leave him.

“let us savor the beauty of the moment… and cherish the bond we share.”

his choice of words are always so lovely… so passionate♡〜

kokushibo wouldn’t exactly be the type of lover to be clingy, i believe. it would more-so be like protecting.

however… he does catch himself clinging to you.. more often then not!

he would follow you around, just to see what you’ll do. if he doesn’t follow, he’ll just watch. regularly, he’ll sit right next to you, with his eyes closed.

just because his eyes are closed, doesn’t mean he still isn’t on guard〜

has the PERFECT balance of angelic and murderous〜

if someone has hurt you, he would internally be on fire.

giving you the most divine words to your beautiful face, reassuring you that everything is okay. but behind his back, is the person who had upset you. with their head decapitated on the floor〜

if someone hadn’t made you upset, and you you're upset for your own reasons, he would be very compassionate, and give you a solution if you’d want one♡! an angel, i tell you.

“my dear, I'm here for you. whatever it is that's causing you distress… know that I will do everything in my power… to resolve it. I cannot bear to see you unhappy. allow me to guide you through this."

kokushibo loves to do things for you, for actions speak louder than words, and would continuously prove his love to you.

would literally let you do (almost) anything to him out of his love for you.

hugs, kisses, hair braiding, skin care, etc!

spspsps〜… speaking of kisses… kiss him on his face! specifically his eyelids or his marks! it’ll make him blush!

prove your love for him and do something in return? oh now he’s flustered. now he’s delirious, now he’s ready to even propose, or even for the 2nd time!

→ some things you’ll hear kokushibo say :

“please, do not hold back your… feelings or thoughts from me. we are in this world and relationship together…”

“even if you and i are… destined to part ways… let us not regret the time that we spent… as one.”

“your presence is pleasuring. i do not interact with a lot of people… but i guarantee you… i have not encountered someone with… an aura like yours. you are truly like no other.”

“you are my everything. my world. your smile alone.. is always enough for me to keep going…”

overall, kokushibo is one of the top tier gentlemen on this planet. cannot stress that enough! as long as you two are together, the world will be a better place♡〜!

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

ahh〜! this was fun to write, i cannot count the amount of times i have stopped just to smile at this! i hope you all enjoy!! as for me… i will get some rest and dream about this♡! thank you, my precious flowers, for your patience! ❀

[firelord-frowny]

taking a moment to be whiny

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i spend more time than i wish i'd spend on resenting the fact that i wasn't born into a family/location that was compatible with my desires and goals and values.

like, oh my god.

imagine!!!

i try to imagine what it must have been like for steve irwin to just, coincidentally, be born into a zoo family. just happened to have parents that loved reptiles and were passionate about conservation. and so he got to spend his entire life immersed in those things, and eventually go on to marry a woman who had those same values, and raise kids who also developed those same values. never having had to long for fulfillment. never had to struggle to reach the thing that makes you most happy in the world.

what is that LIKE???? i wish i knew.

and what's worse is that people who have goals/values/etc that are compatible with the location that i'm in, and people whose do happen to want the same suburban, domestic things that their parents want, just do not fucking understand why i'm so unhappy in my circumstances.

i try to help them understand by asking them to imagine how they'd feel if they lived in the middle of nowhere in alaska. how they'd feel if the only available ways to make a living required that they be outdoors all day and work closely with wildlife. where the only recreational activities available were things like hiking, camping, hunting, etc. no malls or shopping centers. no restaurants. no night clubs, no bars, no nothing. and they're trapped there.

wouldn't ANYBODY be miserable if they lived out their whole life being completely removed from everything that mattered to them??? particularly if they're too fearful and self-conscious to try to leave and go somewhere better??

i cry!

:(

[kasaneteto]

sorry i simply must complain for a moment

ive been complaining about my roommate too much on instagram so im doing it here instead 🖕 fuck you

MOTHERFUCKER CANNOT TAKE CARE OF HIMSELF!!!! tell me why this man is turning 26 NEXT WEEK and can’t remember to pay me back for the bills. won’t do any chores unless he’s asked to or HE has friends coming over. i literally feel like im living with a teenager.

i’ve recently realized just how much ive coddled him and made excuses for him because of his mental health struggles and the way his parents treated him his whole life. ive also realized that its entirely up to him to recognize that his mental health struggles & trauma are HIS problems to deal with and i shouldnt have to temper my expectations because of that. i can only tell him he needs therapy so many times before it’ll just go in one ear and out the other like every other thing i say to him. he is so incapable of any kind of self-reflection or self-awareness, has no concept of how his actions might affect others, can’t make any compromises without throwing a fucking tantrum about it. it’s exhausting. he requires so much attention and validation in order to be happy. being in the same room is like an invitation to talk to him. AND HE SAYS THE SAME SHIT. its like ive exhausted all dialogue options. he always makes the same stupid jokes that are just *goofy or purposefully obnoxious comment about what im doing* and i DONT have the energy to entertain that shit every day. but it RUINS his mood if you dont partake in his humor and then he just sulks. he cannot be serious. everything is jokey goofy fun time. when finn and i told him she’s trans & that we broke up his response was just to stare at us like a deer in headlights and go “oh. okay. sorry thats just a lot to process” which is like. just such a perfect prime example of how he cannot handle anything serious or heavy. when he got cheated on he was inconsolable and would not leave finn and i alone (and we wanted to help!!! we care about him!!!) he literally would follow us to our room and we would have to ask him for alone time!!!! he’s like a baby!!!! he’s so deadset on finding a new partner and i just wanna scream in his face NO RELATIONSHIP YOURE IN WILL EVER WORK IUT UNTIL YOU WORK ON YOURSELF AND UNPACK YOUR TRAUMA!!!!!!

he always uses money as an excuse like “ohhh i cant afford it” motherfucker. you can’t afford anything that isnt something you want. so you cant afford to pay me bills on time but you can afford a new monitor for cyber monday? you can’t afford therapy but you can afford to get a shitty fake christmas tree because THATS what’s important to you? he lives so fucking hedonistically and acts like he lives paycheck to paycheck when he makes 22 DOLLARS AN HOUR. MOTHERFUCKER YOU MAKE MORE THAN ME. YOU CAN FUCKING AFFORD IT YOU JUST DONT BUDGET OR SAVE AT ALL.

ok sorry i had to get that shit out because im so frustrated with him. i had a party the other night and he just sulked around until his friends came, hung out with them and only them the whole time, then continued to sulk and complain once they left. then sat around scrolling on his phone while my friends helped me clean everything up. my friends who actually are responsible and arent just in their own world with no consideration for others.

its not like he’s a bad person or even a bad friend because he truly isn’t. he’s just so emotionally immature and does not have the strength to look inward & realize that he is the source of most of his unhappiness in his life currently. its really hard to live around given the stage of my life im currently in.

i wish i could tell him all of this to be honest but hes so fucking sensitive. i HAVE tried to talk to him about a lot of these issues too (him needing to he asked to do chores, not paying me back etc) and its always the same thing. he gets better for a couple months but it quickly goes back to how it was before. im just like so done acting like his problems are mine. done asking him for favors. i hate that living with him has made me lose so much respect for him (he has no moral backbone) because like. i can see that he wants to be better. he just isnt strong enough to admit that hes the problem in his life right now. anyways. thanks for reading this if you did lol

[andersonpress]

I am TRASH

Originally Written Nov 2018

I like to pride myself on doing a lot of shit. Like, too much shit.

Naturally, I complain all the time about all the shit I have to do. A paper due on Wednesday, executive board meetings every evening, shuffling between events just to save face, and all the other irrelevant shenanigans in between. I am always tired, I eat terribly, but I always seem to find time for a stress nap. My bank account is always telling me oh baby fawk no but when I see some dope Air forces I immediately acquire the skill Black mothers have of "making a way out of no way". I swore off relationships and casual sex so that I could focus on my work but...i'm trash remember?

I started telling people about my dumpster-like qualities as an excuse to keep being terrible. Yeah, I know I'm eating four crispy tacos and cinnamon twists from Taco Bell at 3am, I'm TRASH. I know I said I was going to tell them to leave me alone but haha you thought, I'm TRASH they on the way to the house. And yes, I know that I said I was going to do my paper way before the last two hours I can turn it in but you already know what I'm about to say. All good things must come to an end, though. My trash qualities landed me in the worst depression of my life, forty-five pounds overweight, and stuck in a relationship that left the both of us unsatisfied. I was immensely unhappy with all aspects of my life and how I treated myself and everyone around me, but this is what being trash is supposed to be right? Shitty people live shitty lives I guess, so how can I change the inevitable? Matter of fact, why change the inevitable? These negative tendencies have been built up for the past twenty years, you can't stop this train of disappointment and sadness now. But, why not?

I began my search for inner peace or as I call my "Eat, Pray, Love" stage. The part of your life you transition to after you have decided enough is enough and killing yourself is more hassle than its worth. I went to my local Half-Price Books and walked straight to the spiritual/self-help section. When I looked at the top shelf, I saw Russel Brand, that British guy who was married to Katy Perry and played in a couple of movies. His book was called Recovery: Freedom from Our Addictions, and was advertised as a guide to recovering from all sorts of addictions, from the mouth of an addict who struggled with addictions to heroin, alcohol, sex, food, etc. To be honest, the first thing I thought was, so this is what he's doing now? Writing self-help books? From what I remember, he was pretty hilarious and I needed a good laugh. I can say hands down that this book walked me into my personal mental sanity. I literally felt like a different person after I read it. This was the first of many steps I took during my "Eat, Pray, Love" year to battle all of my addictions: sugary foods, attention, procrastinating, feeling like I always needed something to do to be worth something, and being so accepting of those I loved walking all over me. You see, we all have negative tendencies for a number of reasons. It's important to find those reasons, find the why.

I ate sugary foods to avoid issues that I did not feel like addressing (tension in my relationships, tackling a large task, addressing my depression, etc). Now, when daunted with something that will give me immense anxiety, I do breathing exercises . When I needed to procrastinate, it was really because I really did not believe I was intelligent. Now, I have to work actively to not let my depression get the best of me, and know that tomorrow can always be better than today. I was eating the way I was because I did not deem myself worthy of being happy. I changed the way I thought, I changed my negative tendencies, because I am TRASH. If I allow my negative tendencies to overtake my life then I really do not see the point of living. Being trash is natural, especially with how terrible this world is, it's easy to use so many things to cope. But I deserve happiness, I deserve to want to wake up, I deserve to live a life I am proud of, and so is everyone else. '

My mother and I had never had great communication. I love her, but we both really needed to learn to how to talk to one another. I knew this was a huge problem in my life and that I wanted her to be a part of my life. I want my kids to go to grandma's house, and I want her with me when I get my doctorate. I need my mother in my life, so things had to change. With a lot of talking (sometimes using our inside voices and sometimes not),we found middle ground. I relate to her, I appreciate all she has done for me, and I understand the unconditional love she has for her children. I finally have the relationship with her I have always wanted and that's because I recognized how trash of a communicator I was.

We are all trash in some way. It's inevitable. However, we can all recognize where we fall short, and how we can do better. You can't ever stay in the same place for a long time. Eventually shit gets old. If you let old shit weigh on you everyday you are going to live a long, upsetting, and angry life, and who wants that? Work on yourself. Pick up a book. Go to the gym, consistently. It really is in your own best interest.

#deepthoughts

[straycatboogie]

2023/04/30 English

BGM: Lenny Kravitz - Stand By My Woman

This morning a friend on Discord asked to me as "Hey disco cat, why do you write your journal?". It's a difficult question to answer for me because it is too primal. Basically, I have been bullied or suffered because of losing any faith in every relationship, therefore I have had a huge difficulty of making friendship during this life. Now, I am having a lot of friends everywhere. Discord, MeWe, Facebook, and this real world. That's because of that past illness I had to face. And, I started my diary because I just wanted to share my life with those friends who are in this whole world (yes, this might sound too hugely but they are in all over the world. France, Indonesia, Brazil, etc). In other words, there is no any huge idea except that. Just I want to show this strange person's honest life and that's an ultimate pleasure for me. I want to let you know some Japanese language's basic knowledge, some pieces of funny Japanese culture, or a page of a romantic bookaholic and pervert person's life.

Recently I have been suffered from a mental pollution. Having chaos in my head, and being tired completely. TBH my mother had sent me a LINE message, but I couldn't answer properly therefore my mother felt something from that. A friend sent me a LINE message about that. Ah, great inspiration of her. Or as an ancient Japanese idiom says, "mothers are great". Today I met my mother at AEON and talked a lot face to face. I remember... after I graduated from a university, I couldn't be a hikikomori so started my work. But I had to face severe problems at that workplace (at that period, I couldn't imagine what an autism should be. That's out of my imagination). My parents didn't understand me so they said "quit such a pitiful job", "try to be a square government staff". But I accepted that advice from them as "too much", so I kept on working. I felt almost dead with my work... at last, my mind got broken up, and tried to end everything.

Oh, when I met some "trendy" theory of "adult children", I thought it must be the source of my problems because my life was too hard. In short words, I blamed my parents completely. Everything was my parents' fault. We Japanese say this as "poisonous parents' problems". Indeed, at that time I lived with my parents but I even hated facing them in a house actually. Yes, I had to earn money and get out of that house, but I couldn't do so. Finally, I chose escaping from everything and drinking a lot of alcohol. I had been soaked into alcohol. I remember we - my mother and I - made struggles. I even said "you should separate from me mentally" and "Why? Why did you born me?"... Of course, now I never think that my parents are poisonous. Indeed, maybe the way of bringing me up could have some problems. For example, when I couldn't go to the school, or almost chose a hikikomori life, my parents didn't allow those withdrawal. I got anger with them, indeed... but, every person can make mistakes. Every parent must try to make their theory of bringing their children to be perfect every day. I guess so. And, as a immature child, I am also making mistakes every day, really often.

Thinking about that, now I won't say that my parents must be "poisonous parents". I NEVER say so. In my case, it must be influenced from a completely unknown issue "autism". They couldn't learn from anything like textbooks therefore must meet huge hardship. Indeed, thinking as "everything must be my parents' fault so I am no wrong" would sound really sweet for me. Or saying "that's the government's fault" or "this world's" might be another lifehack. Indeed, that's actual one. We can't be completely responsible for our lives' results as happiness or unhappiness. Because that is almost saying like "I can control my life and be responsible for any results because I am almighty". But I want to remember a primal principle. "Nobody is perfect", or as R.E.M. says "everybody hurts". Everybody lives their hard life. I want to remember that fact in the corner of my mind. That's a exact realism. I have to be adult to remember that precious truth.

[irregodless]

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[ghooostbaby]

deeeep dive into why and how wei wuxian and lan wangji love each other, complete each other, are the inverse reflection of each other’s deeply hidden internal selves mirrored through the other’s external self, lan wangji’s inner wildness that he has to conceal and protect recognizing and loving wei wuxian’s outer wildness, wei wuxian’s deep, fuddy-duddy morality and values that he conceals with an elaborate subterfuge of jokes, mischief, and bravado, seeing and loving in lan wangji the ability to say no that it was never safe for him to express directly, “between you and me there is no need for thank you and sorry”

oh and a slight diversion midway through into a manifesto on WEI WUXIAN IS NOT INSECURE the whole story is about a society where being liked is ESSENTIAL for survival and it is actually completely perilous not to be liked, and his “people pleasing” is a skill and tool for his survival especially as an orphan and proven to be a necessary one when he stops doing it and STOPS SURVIVING

after the cut discussing the very interesting dynamics of consent in general in the novel, but not going into the consensual non-consent kink stuff till the last paragraph if you need to avoid for any reason.

I've been thinking about how Lan WangJi sees in Wei WuXian the exterior, unfettered expression of the wildness Lan WangJi holds in him and protects with rigid codes of conduct, propriety and outward dignity.

I have had this sense that these two are mirrors, either one reflecting the hidden, interior (and unallowed) self of the other. but it seemed more clear from Lan WangJi's side, especially knowing about his history with his mother and the spicy side that emerges when he drinks and in the extras.

I also - just... the way this whole story shows how romantic love is truly this longing for your self, to become yourself, to become the thing you're not allowed to be, seeing in that person the expression of whatever it is you can't become and longing for it, protecting it, joining with it as closely as you can without ever being able to let it live inside your own body.

On the surface it seems a lot more difficult for Wei WuXian to find a piece of his soul in Lan Wangji. I think its a bit too simplistic to see whatever draws Wei WuXian to Lan Wangji as a reverse-psychology sort of craving of acceptance from the only one who won't give it, pushing and pushing against this impenetrable boundary that he needs to break to feel assurance that no matter what he can make anyone accept him.

And he is SO drawn - in a mind boggling way, in the teenage flashbacks Lan WangJi rudely and aggressively throws him off over and over and Wei WuXian cannot keep away! Even when he talks about how boring Lan WangJi is, he never stops trying to be around him and talk to him.

I've seen discussions of the way Wei WuXian has always relied on the goodwill of others to survive, and that his placating of others to survive is a character flaw. Although that seems only halfway true. 

As a young child he didn't have anyone's goodwill for a while and he survived, and it seems like he can always find a way to survive from whatever means and sometimes very limited resources he has at his disposal. Doing what he has to do to become powerful enough to survive losing his core and being thrown into the burial mounds slowly costs him the goodwill of everyone around him - and what happens to him as a result shows how much placation was a truly necessary for someone without the protection of biological/hereditary family bonds.

(Don’t get me started on how his loss of his golden core and his development of demonic cultivation to give himself power by ‘unnatural methods’ through the use of a musical instrument is a metaphor for disability and the way ableist society sees the use of accessibility devices and tools. Actually please DO get my started haha.)

Wei WuXian is so charismatic and seems very used to getting what he wants and needs on the strength of that. He pushes a lot of boundaries and seems pretty confident and flexibly prepared to handle the consequences, whether beatings or harsh words. But he does work so hard to make others feel good, good with him, good with themselves.

When he is in the cave with Lan WangJi, Wei WuXian is described as "like one who forgets all past pain as soon as the wound heals". He can't resist coming up beside Lan WangJi and talking to him again and again after every time Lan WangJi pushes him off, only finally staying away when Lan WangJi bites him (and he still keeps trying to talk to him after a little bit!) and then calls him an awful person (!!! Bad Wangji! :(((( ). In the end, when Lan WangJi (very minimally) discloses what happened to his sect and his father, and even cries, because of all the defences/assaults Lan WangJi has put up Wei WuXian can't do anything or say anything to help and feels miserable.

Lan WangJi just absolutely refuses to allow Wei WuXian to take care of him - and I began to wonder maybe that’s what Wei WuXian actually really likes about him? Why he is unable to resist coming up to Lan WangJi again and again? Maybe because Lan WangJi refuses to let Wei WuXian appease him. He’s not trying to crack Lan WangJi to get to this impenetrable place of approval and acceptance. In a way he can’t quite understand, Lan WangJi is a respite for Wei WuXian from the constant work to be the one who pleases.

And  how different this is to how Wei WuXian is (or has to be) with Jiang Cheng when he wakes up in Lotus Pier after the cave. Jiang Cheng gets so down and really really needs Wei WuXian to do what he does so well (and wasn’t allowed to do with Lan WangJi) - chasing Jiang Cheng down while being injured and reassuring him about all his insecurities about his father's acceptance and becoming a sect leader and Wei WuXian's own abilities excelling his - and at first Jiang Cheng is pushing him away, but he really does need Wei WuXian to do all this to feel better.

Wei WuXian is described as not wanting to be lonely, and not wanting to see other people unhappy, and he keeps trying to push and pull with whatever he has to not be lonely and lift the mood for those around him. I don't think it's a kind of codependency or insecurity. It’s not that Wei WuXian is afraid to say no, in fact I would say he doesn't do anything he doesn't want to do, but he must always do it creatively, with humour. Similarly to Nie Huaisang, he uses a persona of foolishness to give himself a covert agency.

I also think I'm writing this because I don't like seeing this discussed as a sad bean character flaw for him to always need to be liked - its a strategy, its a tool, its how he survives and excels. Doesn’t the whole story prove how essential being liked is to a human’s survival? And he is so so good at being liked, in making others happy, even when he is refusing to do what others want from him that he doesn't want to do, he does it in a way that deflects criticism, with a smiling bravado that never says what it truly means and has people writing him off as shameless or foolish or just endearing himself toward them despite themselves.

He is always at work really, with jokes and flattery or mischief and teasing, to get the resources he wants and needs. Case and point, when he makes a big coquettish show for mianmian, definitely not being "people pleasing" for her, but the group of girls around them all find it funny and cute and in the end she gives him a perfume sachet which ends up being a valuable resource for later. Or the time he outright tells Jiang Cheng that if you give the girls some lotus seeds they'll remember you and return the favour in the future. (Also notice how his interactions with girls seen as flirtatious are actually strategic resource-gathering acts.) These are the skills he has developed to meet his own needs. (THIS IS NOT A CHARACTER FLAW. I REPEAT.) He takes what he needs and steals from the Lotus Pier markets knowing it'll be paid for, he lives like he never know when his next windfall will come from so he'll take what he can when he can find it. Like Jiang Fengmian said, if there is no guarantee of a meal in the future then today's meal should still be enjoyed. It’s how Wei WuXian said to Nie Huaisang at Cloud Recesses, you have to find ways to make your own fun out of whatever you have. So he gets kicked out of class, goes fishing, gets alcohol, he pursues his own pleasure. He actually is quite insistent of his own agency and right to choose, he just can never directly say no.

And that little detail that Wei WuXian always tucks coins into his clothes just in case, that makes him able to buy food when he and Jiang Cheng are on the run... breaks my heart and reveals so much about the way Wei WuXian is constantly at work on ensuring his own survival and never takes for granted whether he is safe (he knows he never is). 

I've seen some people talking about Wei WuXian sacrificing so much for his brother and sister out of a need to be accepted out of a chronic sense of insecurity. But isn’t this just true? Doesn't he live in a world where being accepted is absolutely essential for survival? Doesn’t this whole story show the cruelty of a social system based on networks of hereditary/biological family that closes out and scapegoats any outsiders, and that without biological family connections that can enclose around you, you can never truly be safe if not constantly working to earn acceptance? (And then beautifully ends with the way a gay romantic relationship that queers marriage/family/etc disrupts all this and creates safety and inclusion for Wei WuXian without needing a normative family.) (AKA romantic love does not resolve some internal personal problem in Wei WuXian but disrupts and refuses and rebels against the problem of SOCIETY.) (*breathes heavily*)

And that’s why Lan WangJi is magnetizing to Wei WuXian. Lan WangJi is always saying no. Although what Lan WangJi sees in Wei WuXian is an exterior wildness, Wei WuXian is not really out of control so much as he is playing and caring and supplicating and showing off and pleasing people to get the resources and the acceptance he needs to live his life. He has firm values and desires that he can never outwardly state, only creatively spinning plates to distract and deflect while he refuses what goes against his values, protects who he cares for, or takes what he needs to in order to survive/thrive. Lan WangJi embodies an exterior of resoluteness and direct agency that Wei WuXian doesn't have the luxury of. And he's so drawn to him for his ability to repeatedly say no, to refuse to get along, or make others laugh, make other people happy, but just simply follow what he thinks is right.

Wei WuXian’s outward wild movement protects an inward stillness. He is an exterior of people-pleasing around an interior of refusal. He is an exterior of youthful rebellion around an interior of unflinching morality. He sees in Lan WangJi the outward expression of his stillness, his morality, his resistance that he can't express, that he's had to protect.

FYI after the cut gets more into the dynamics of consent in the story, and the last paragraph directly talks about consensual non-consent kink play in wangxian’s relationship.

When Wei WuXian is with Lan WangJi, there is no work to be done. Lan WangJi cannot be swayed by him, and so there's no point vying for resources or favors. Lan WangJi will either give him everything or refuse him everything based on who he is, it does not matter what Wei WuXian does and he can't do anything that will change Lan WangJi’s mind. Someone he literally can't win over. After the resurrection, they are often in an adorable tug of war, where Wei WuXian tries to take care of Lan WangJi, while Lan WangJi won't allow him to but demands to care of Wei WuXian right back. Actually, Lan WangJi insists that Wei WuXian take everything he wants or needs from him and is even angry when he doesn't take or when Wei WuXian tries to offer a gesture in return, even something as simple as a thank you Lan WangJi won't accept. It’s kind of adorable how frustrated Wei WuXian is in doing this thing he's learned that he needs to do, and just... so confused by Lan WangJi, and has to find a way to please this person who aggressively refuses to be pleased and is ONLY pleased by Wei WuXian being pleased.

(Not to mention the way Wei WuXian delights in finding that Lan WangJi can’t say what he wants, and they have sort of these chaotic cohesive both-being-so-pleased-by-working-hard-to-please each-other moments where Wei WuXian is letting Lan WangJi please him by finding out what pleases Lan WangJi and giving it to him.)

The wildness Lan WangJi had always hidden within himself is something he sees as just as dangerous as Wei WuXian thinks of his desire to refuse. He saw his mother be socially alienated, shunned, and eventually die because of her wildness. His ability to survive in the world, aka to be accepted by his family, is contingent on him being able to control this inner wildness. From a young age (re: Phoenix Mountain kiss) he could only understand his sexual desires for Wei WuXian as something repulsive or dangerous that had to be repressed and controlled, and that the only way he could imagine his desires as possible was as non-consensual. His secret gay desires were never available to him as anything but something monstrous.

Importantly, it’s not like everyone else other than Lan WangJi are all vampires cruelly demanding Wei WuXian’s constant sacrifice. Wei WuXian is always vibrantly, charismatically offering so much, before anyone has asked. It’s Wei WuXian who creates this kind of relationship for himself again and again. It’s Lan WangJi who simply refuses - he refuses to charmed, to be cared for. And so in the end Lan WangJi becomes the one person who Wei WuXian feels doesn't need anything from him. When he says he's eating the corpse's fruit to save Lan WangJi money and Lan WangJi says that will never be necessary. Or when Wei WuXian asks what toy he should win for Lan WangJi at the market game, and Lan WangJi says anything Wei WuXian gets will be the one he wants. (XD stahhhhp it’s too sweet !!!) He really just wants Wei WuXian to be, to exist, to spend his life discovering his own desires and allow Lan WangJi to help satisfy them, he doesn't want anything from Wei WuXian other than him living - happy and safe.

It takes someone like Lan WangJi to refuse Wei WuXian’s aggressive generosity, it’s definitely not an easy thing to say no to Wei WuXian, dazzling or annoying people so chaotically before they even realize there’s something to say no to. The sacrifice he gives to Jiang Cheng, he never even offers a choice - and perhaps it would have been too much for Jiang Cheng to accept if he had the chance.

Lan WangJi’s statement "Between us there is no need for thank you and sorry" seems like one of the most important sentences in the novel, and you can’t help but noticed the way “sorry” and “thank you” is littered meaningfully through the book. What is owed, what the characters owe to each other, the give and take, touches every part of the story (down to wangxian's erotic explorations!).

When Jiang Cheng talks to Wei WuXian at the Guanyin temple he makes a lot of contradictory statements about what Wei WuXian owes, what he was given, what he took, what he (Wei WuXian still) is owed in return. Wei WuXian, according to Jiang Cheng, took everything from the Jiang clan, and paid them back with their deaths. The Jiang clan give him his life when they took him in, and he owed Jiang Cheng service for the rest of his life as the right hand to the sect leader, that’s what Wei WuXian had promised anyway. At the same time, Wei WuXian sacrificed everything (his golden core) to Jiang Cheng, by giving everything he was taking one more thing - Jiang Cheng’s right to even be angry at him. Jiang Cheng had taken everything from Wei WuXian. Everything that happened around Wei WuXian after could be said to be because of the loss of his golden core, which Jiang Cheng might be said to be responsible for. But he never asked for it, maybe he never would have wanted it. He wishes Wei WuXian told him, but Jiang Cheng never told Wei WuXian his golden core was melted while he was sacrificing himself to save Wei WuXian. He wants Wei wuxian to say sorry, but that makes him feel pathetic. And Jiang Cheng says sorry too. It’s a mess of paradoxes, and in the end somehow it seems like the scales are balanced in the most hollow, dismal way.

What is owed, what is given, what is taken ... Wei WuXian has never been part of a family. He has always had to say thank you and sorry for everything he's taken. Wei WuXian himself admits that he used "thank you" as a way to enforce distance between himself and Lan WangJi. Lan WangJi's point i think is that they belong to each other, Wei WuXian is his, and he is Wei WuXian's, unconditionally. The way that Jiang Cheng speaks of him in the Guanyin temple (admittedly I read a fan translation and this is very nuanced, related to slight variations of grammar), even when Jiang Cheng clearly is so broken by the loss of Wei WuXian from his life, he talks about Wei WuXian as an outsider. It is what MY family gave to YOU, never what you took from our family. But at one point Wei WuXian was part of their family - but he takes too much, and becomes an ex-disciple, not a brother. Wei WuXian’s inclusion as a Jiang was always conditional. 

Even when Wen Qing and Wen Ning leave him to go take the blame for qiongqing path they tell him "thank you and sorry", drawing a line between them and him, so he doesn’t even belong to these people who he sacrificed everything for. The way Wei WuXian acted when he was younger, he was always keenly aware of this - he always knew that he didn’t belong to anyone, no one is going to protect him unconditionally. And after first escaping the Burial Mounds, he is done pretending. When Lan WangJi warns him about what a demonic cultivation path will do to his heart, Wei WuXian replies: “After all, on the topic of how my heart is, what could other people know about it? Why should other people care about it?” He is done pleasing. Nothing has changed really, he still belongs to no one and is alone, but now he is angry about it, and instead of saying thank you and sorry he is going to become too powerful to be at anyone's mercy. And then we see in the story afterward what happens to people who don't say thank you and sorry.

The whole point I think is the impossibility of choice, the impossibility of consent in this society. If he didn't forgo the behaviour his social acceptance was conditional on, he wouldn't have survived the burial mounds. But once he becomes powerful enough to survive and get revenge on the Wens, he is socially outcast. Except he was already outcast from the beginning.

And so how do Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi find a way through all that to a life together where all their desires are possible, where Wei WuXian can say no while also being pleasing (safe) to others, and Lan WangJi can indulge in his wild desires while still being good? The answer is kinky sex!

It is kind of miraculous and beautiful how Wei WuXian finds a way to say no, while simultaneously pleasing Lan WangJi, giving pleasure, while taking it, saying no, and knowing his refusal is not just tolerated, but gives Lan WangJi pleasure, knowing Lan wangji and knowing the painful belief Lan WangJi holds within that his desires are unacceptable and unspeakable, and that Wei WuXian can take care of Lan Wangji in a secret little way and please him and give everything to him by craving this wildness in Lan WangJi while at the same time he gets to say no again and again , and it won't push Lan WangJi away, he can refuse everything while at the same time be totally pleasing and thus safe, and also for Lan WangJi, Wei WuXian's pleasure at saying "no" while still being held onto, that he genuinely wants to be fucked even while begging Lan WangJi to stop (and the many ways he does give his consent for this throughout, especially their first time), allows Lan WangJi the ecstatic feeling that this idea that his sexual desires are only possible through force are not just something his lover forgives him for but something his lover is SO turned on by, and that he has consent for his fantasies of non-consent, Wei WuXian has the same fantasies from the other side, he is doing what he is supposed to while doing what he shouldn't, and actually these monstrous feelings in him allow him to take care of Wei WuXian in a way that he needs - that they both need - and all these impulses that are so wrong with Wei WuXian become very right and a way to do good. And they are just both so perfect and perfect for each other and I love them and I am so happy for them to have a long kinky life together.

[samhainmade]

ragdollsaal​:

Saaliha recognized the voice before she could turn around… but it certainly wasn’t a voice she expected to hear. A slight chill ran through her body with the realization that it was Shona she had just mistook for one of her roommates. “I’m sorry, Shona I assumed you were Jack or Zane…” she trailed off, a soft exhale escaping her lips as she prepared herself for the other girl’s mischief.

Saal wasn’t naive by any means, but she did always try to see the good in people. That being said, she had a feeling Shona’s answer was mostly just an attempt to scare her… but she also didn’t doubt the girl’s rather pyromaniacal desires. Either way, Saaliha couldn’t help her instincts in closing her journal and pulling it protectively in her lap. The last thing she wanted was for her inner thoughts, feelings, etc. to be used as kindling, or worse… to become Shona’s next read. “A legal answer would have been more appreciated, but I suppose beggars can’t be choosers… Don’t you have any more amiable ambitions?” she asked, trying her best to pull some kindness out of the other girl. “Orphaned dolphins? I’ve never even seen the ocean… although if I was presented with the opportunity I don’t think I would say no.” Disregarding Shona’s sarcasm, Saal contemplated the idea anyway. “Oh I have too many that I can’t figure out where to start. Just trying to make up for lost time.”

“Tragic for them as I’m way hotter than both of ‘em.” Shona sighed as she dumped her body onto the space next to Saal with a abrupt thump, slapping her own thighs. Ugh Jack and Zane, how boring and awful her life must be only having two idiot boys as company. Oh.. that sounded a little familiar, perhaps that was why Shona seemed to be so invested in Saaliha. Maybe the girls had more in common than she thought. “You don’t have to sound so disappointed about that either. Me and you could have more fun together than they could.”

Shona rolled her eyes and scoffed at Saaliha’s commitment to being good and sweet, if they were just fucking around with hypothetical dreams or scenarios why the hell couldn’t she dream of setting fire? It’s not like she would judge Saaliha for having something similar in mind. “There is literally nothing I can say that will give you any kind of peace. But while we’re talkin’ about ambitions you think i’d be a better leader than Mayor Reed, right?” Shona asked with a playful grin. She’d known Mason was close with Jack, but not where Saaliha fell into the social circle of men with adequate ideas. “The ocean is full of deep trenches, fish with big teeth who live in darkness and giant kraken starved for the taste of human flesh! You should totally take a trip to see it.” Shona shook her head at Saalhia’s musings. “You can’t bring back shit you lost. You just have to move on or else you’ll be unhappy forever. And that’s my thing so-- what’s first on that list?”

Shona would be lying if she said spying on the trio of hope & goodwill wasn't a regular occurrence for her. She knew Oz had his own reasons for wanting to keep Jack away from his business, but he had never explicitly told Shona she could not get into his-- or his housemates for that matter. Spotting Saaliha downtown, Shona stalked through the shadows and down the streets at a distance until they reached the town square. It was strange, Shona thought to herself, how Saaliha could be so detached to her surroundings and not looking for an escape route or better way to hide her belongings, not evening noticing Shona following her. Perhaps they were just two completely different people. Coming into view, Shona closed some distance between them waiting for Saaliha to notice her. "Hmmm what about arson? Everyone loves a bit of fire!" she grinned. "Why what's yours? Saving orphaned dolphins or whatever weird shit you're into."

[obeymefictionwriting]

hi!! i hope you’re having a great day!! i was curious how the obey me ! boyfies (hcs) would react if their s/o who is selectively clingy w certain people kinda back off suddenly because they just feel.. embarrassed?? like when they were a kid people reacted negatively to their clinginess and would ignore them for it. and they just feel so dumb to show emotion & showing their clinginess? and they feel like they’re being a bother and being annoying too... & suddenly just feel like closing off from the world lol? & like they can just feel really out of place and get negative thoughts that they don’t belong there, X person or a group of ppl in the convo don’t wanna talk to them etc and feel like they don’t belong in the conversation if that makes sense (i get those thoughts especially when i’m in a group i feel like i get overlooked a lot lol and i’ve never really felt included + like i can just feel so overwhelmed sometimes about the amount pf people / crowds or feeling like i’m being judged bc i’m beating myself up mentally abt my insecurities and i just end up most likely having a panic attack and just like tearing up, either crying on the spot or trying to hold it in till i get home). i’ve been feeling like this recently and i’d love to see what they’d do if that’s possible please!! thank you so much!!

I love such requests and I want to remind everyone that my blog is a very safe space where we can imagine whatever we want for our MC and be proud of it. Happy to write it!

Lucifer:

He is stunned at first. Like, things were going great and suddenly, you are backing off?...

He looks you deep in the eyes, lifting your chin up, and asks softly "Is everything okay or do you need to share something?"

Is incredibly patient while you are trying to explain what's going on in your head.

Also, will not let you go unless you share everything to him about how you feel and why.

"I love you deeply and I hope my loyalty and love will soon help you realize what a wonderful creature worth of admiration you are".

Mammon:

Okay, he'll be judging himself immediately as soon as you back off because well, he is in a constant state of low self-confidence and always feels like he is guilty for everything that happens.

"Did I do something wrong? I'll understand if yes, I ruin everything"

Oh, it has NOTHING to do with him. Huh. A relief. But another worry then - what caused you to act this way?

"WHO MADE YOU UNHAPPY? I'LL FIND 'EM!"

After you explain the reasoning behind your behavior, he slightly relaxes but is still worried.

"Can I help somehow? Like, you want some time alone or something? Just tell me,okay?"

Will hug you and whisper "I love you" in your ear till it tickles and you laugh.

Leviathan:

Oh no, what did he do? Why did you back off?

Is it because he is too much of an otaku? HE KNEW IT

It’s not him? Huh? It’s a relief, probably. Though he is still upset about your reaction because he can’t understand it and starts to worry too.

“M-m-maybe you can explain it to me? I’m sure I can understand. I’ve been living in the shadow of my brothers, I know about such things”

Ah, he sees it now. 

He will smile brightly and hug you. “It’s okay to feel like this but I hope, together we can create a safe space for us both”.

Satan

Is slightly suprirsed, confused and a tiny bit offended.

Because well, everything was great and then... this thing happened. Did he do anything wrong? 

Because he must know so not to repeat it in the future.

He sees you are hesitant to explain but surprisingly, Satan is really patient and will not just let it go.

“Kitten, I’ve never in my life been happier than when I am with you. It’s okay sometimes we need our space but trust me, you never bore or upset me”.

Will make you some mint tea and will bring you sugar cookies while reading a book to you.

Asmodeus

To be honest, he is slightly hurt because no one ever backed off from him before.

Will become very emotional but also determined to find out the reason behind your behavior.

“Darling, but would you please come in my arms? I’d love to calm you down”.

Will stroke your hair and give you kisses on the head until you are able to explain what happened.

Is super sensitive and supportive (which is one of his greatest strengths)

“My dear, even I feel overlooked at times... Just don’t tell anyone, okay?”

Beelzebub

He has a bit of a hard time understanding such things so he will honestly have no idea what to do at first.

Like, do you wanna be alone or do you need him? Do you wanna cry or are you angry at him?

It’s really complex for Beel and he often wishes he was better at understanding both demons and humans.

He will directly ask you and will apologize for not understanding your emotions.

While he can’t fully comprehend the concept of you being selectively clingy, he will do his best to understand it in the future.

“Just share how you feel with me, okay? Like, always”

Belphegor

He won’t show it but it hurt him when you backed off.

“Maybe you can write me a note next time you decide you don’t like me anymore?”

*yeah, sarcasm is his weapon of choice when he is confused*

Will hate himself for saying that so will be double-confused since he is akward with apologies.

“Baby, I didn’t mean to... Damn! Listen, I’m sorry, I just got a bit scared and I don’t know what’s happening. Mind explaining, please?”

*yes, he is super akward with that*

Will be surprisingly patient and caring while waiting for your explanation because a) he needs to know and b) he slightly screwed up so...

“I see. We’ll work it out so no worries again, deal?”

[helaintoloki]

Meet the Family

pairing: Pietro Peter Maximoff x fem!reader

warnings: angst, manipulation, reader is a Westview hostage controlled by Wanda, etc., 2.5k in length

notes: writing a piece that takes place in the WandaVision universe was such a challenging and fun experience, and I really tried to capture the same dark undertones of the show so I hope you enjoy!

summary: An innocent family dinner with Pietro’s new girlfriend reveals that life in Westview is not what it seems. Uncle Pietro introduces y/n to the family!

Y/n almost feels like she’s being watched as the warm hand of her boyfriend— since when do I have a boyfriend?— carefully guides her trembling figure up the front steps of his sister’s house and rings the doorbell. Her grip on the glass dish of brownies in her hands is so impossibly tight she fears she might just break it, and when the silver haired man swoops down to steal a kiss from her cherry gloss stained lips she can’t help but to feel nauseated. The sickness morphs into guilt immediately, and when he looks down upon her with a gaze so tender and fond she forces herself to bat her eyes and smile at him. What kind of girlfriend is horrible enough to be disgusted by a kiss from her own boyfriend? Something isn’t right here...

“Don’t even sweat it, babe, my little sis is going to love you!” Pietro comforts with an easygoing grin plastered on his features.

“I hope so,” y/n murmurs quietly, nervously chewing at her bottom lip. This is the audition, her one shot at impressing the boss, and if even one tiny minuscule detail is thrown out of place then there goes her new house and fancy wardrobe and y/n is written out of the show. Permanently.

“My girlfriend is such a worrywart,” he laughs fondly with a gentle pinch of her cheek. It’s as if a switch is flipped inside of her, and this time when she smiles at him it is genuine and full of unadulterated love.

“I just want everything to be perfect, I know how much this means to you,” she replies earnestly, too dazed to notice the soft aww that drifts through the air from the audience. Pietro smiles.

“Man, did I luck out on finding the most perfect girl in the world or what?”

“Well us being together certainly isn’t a coincidence,” she notes with a small smile. The uneasiness begins to wash over her again, but y/n isn’t given a chance to dwell on the feeling as the front door swings open and a vibrant looking young woman stands in the doorway, almost beaming at the two with pure glee.

“Thank goodness you made it!” She exclaims, hand delicately resting on her chest to showcase her relief before she pulls the stranger her brother into a hug.

“Like we’d really miss Sunday dinner,” Pietro jokes before pressing a chaste kiss to his sister’s cheek. His hand returns to the small of y/n’s back and the fond smile pulls at his lips again. “Wanda, I’d like to introduce you to a very special little lady, my girlfriend y/n.”

“Oh, she’s very special indeed,” Wanda notes with an overzealous wink, ignoring the way in which the brownie dish begins to tremble in the poor girl’s hands. Just a little stage fright, that’s all. “It’s very nice to meet you, y/n. I’m Wanda.”

“It’s an honor to meet you,” the girl replies earnestly, “Pietro has told me so much about you.”

“Well aren’t you sweet! Please, come in,” Wanda grins, ushering the two inside before shutting the door. “Boys, Uncle Pietro is here!”

“What a lovely place you have,” y/n compliments. Her eyes scan the perfectly decorated home in wonder, awe, and a third thing she can’t quite place for if she dwells on it for too long her head begins to ache and her surroundings begin to grow fuzzy.

“Oh, please, it’s just a little something I threw together,” she jokes, canned laughter echoing distantly in the background of y/n’s mind.

“Uncle Pietro!” Two voices exclaim, and y/n watches curiously as her boyfriend lets out an ecstatic laugh before rushing forward to scoop the twin boys in his arms.

“If it isn’t my favorite little trouble makers!” He grins, making sure to ruffle both heads of hair. “Billy, Tommy, say hi to your aunt y/n.”

“Hi, aunt y/n,” Billy greets politely. Tommy is at her side in an instant, movements so quick y/n can’t help but to let out a startled yelp as he lunges for the dish in her hands.

“Are those brownies?!”

“Tommy, where are your manners?” Wanda chides gently, shaking her head with a laugh and reaching for the pastries. “Boys will be boys. I’ll take these off your hands.”

“Oh, uh, yes, thank you...” y/n murmurs softly, brows stitched together in discomfort.

“You’ll have to excuse my husband’s absence, another late night at the office. You know how it is, don’t you?”

“I can’t say I do.”

“Hmm... Well, make yourself comfortable. Dinner will be ready soon, I’ll just go put these in the kitchen.”

“Oh, do you need any h-“

“No,” Wanda blurts out abruptly, startling everyone in the room. She plasters on a smile, “No thank you. How can I be a good hostess if my guest is doing all the work for me?”

“You’re right, I’m so sorry,” y/n flounders, panic clear amongst her features. “I-I didn’t mean to impose at all.”

“No apologies,” the woman murmurs quietly, a small smile on her lips and an admonitory glimmer in her eyes, “we’re going to have a nice family dinner, and everything is going to be just perfect.”

The tension in the air is suffocating, wrapping itself in a slow growing hold around y/n’s neck. Her eyes begin to water, bottom lip quivering in fear as she looks around the room that suddenly feels too big and too bright. She doesn’t belong here with these people, something is wrong, the man she came here with is not hers, and as Wanda’s figure retreats behind the kitchen door y/n makes a mad dash towards the nearest exit.

“Whoa!” Pietro exclaims with an uneasy laugh, and in a blue flash she suddenly finds herself being scooped up off her feet and tossed back down on the couch in between the apprehensive twins faster than her fried brain can even comprehend. “Not so fast there, missy. Just where do you think you’re going?”

“I... I don’t feel right,” the young woman murmurs, wincing at the uncomfortable dryness of her throat as she swallows. “I want to go home and lie down.”

“Don’t be like that, babe,” he chides with a disappointed frown, “this is my family.”

“But what about my family?” Y/n whispers, tears welling in her eyes as she realizes that whenever she attempts to picture the life she once lived not a single thing comes to mind. “I don’t have a family.”

“This is your family now. We talked about this, remember? We came to Westview to make Wanda happy, and you don’t want to upset her, do you?”

“No,” she replies meekly, shuddering when the calloused pad of his thumb swipes across her warm cheek to remove any evidence of tears. No, I don’t want to make her unhappy, because if I do then I’m written off the show and I don’t know what will happen to me if I am. “I want to spend time with my new family.”

“Atta girl,” Pietro grins as he cups her face with both hands and brings her in for a kiss.

“Yuck!” Tommy exclaims in disgust from beside the couple, and this time y/n can’t help the bubbly laughter that escapes her at the young boy’s antics. Any memory of her previous meltdown is quickly wiped from her mind, and all she can think of now is how utterly grateful she is to be loved by such a wonderful man and be taken in by his wonderful family.

She pulls Pietro in for another kiss and giggles uncontrollably when he responds by tickling her sides, all while Wanda watches carefully from behind the scenes.

~~~

“Dream of better lives, the kind which never hate. Trapped in a state of imaginary grace.”

Her voice is quiet and serene as she hums along to the Modern English song playing on the radio, a content smile on her face as she washes the dishes leftover from dinner. It was the least she could do after the lovely evening Wanda had hosted; her sister-in-law had been called upon by the neighbor Agnes for a task that hadn’t quite been specified, so y/n was happy to tidy up while her boyfriend spent quality time with the boys. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt as happy and content as she did now— she couldn’t remember anything, really— and y/n knew then and there that moving to Westview with Pietro had been the right decision for the family, for his sister and themselves, and for the children, too. Yes, everything was just peachy keen.

The kitchen door swings open and in walks a man y/n has never seen before. He looks just as surprised as she is when their eyes meet, an awkward smile on his red face and the morning paper in his hands, and y/n slowly drops the dish she had been washing back into the sink.

“Hello,” the man greets curtly, “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting before.”

“I’m afraid not,” y/n agrees with a bashful smile, quickly removing her rubber gloves so that she may extend her hand towards him for a shake, “I’m y/n, Pietro’s girlfriend.”

“Ah, yes...” he murmurs lowly, cautiously shaking her hand and sizing the woman up and down until she shrinks under his gaze. He means her no harm, but he isn’t sure whether or not she’s part of this cooky little play or just another victim cast under Wanda’s spell. He smiles suddenly, the gesture startling the girl. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Vision.”

“Oh, yes! Of course. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“May I ask where my wife is?” Vision asks.

“She went off to the neighbor’s,” y/n explains before promptly returning to her dish washing. The radio sounds distant and warbled now, the song she had been singing along to now nothing but static and jumbled up syllables, but to Vision’s dismay she doesn’t seem to notice in the slightest.

“How are you enjoying Westview?”

“I’m having the best time. Pietro and I have been talking and we might just have to hunker down in our own little place,” she says with a giggle. “It would be nice to be closer to you all.”

“I must say, having you and Pietro here was quite the surprise.”

“Not a bad one I hope,” she frowns. Vision guiltily refuses to meet her gaze.

“No, not at all. But, might I ask how you two came to be?” Vision asks apprehensively, adding on so that she doesn’t feel cornered, “I’m sure it must be a lovely story.”

“Oh, yes! I remember it like it was yesterday,” y/n swoons dreamily, a fond smile plastered on her face and her gaze casted out towards the living room where Pietro sits playing video games with the boys. She blinks once, twice, eyes never once leaving the silver haired stranger in the couch. A pregnant pause hovers over the two, the porcelain plate trembles in her hands, and Vision watches in silent horror as her eyes begin to well with tears.

“Y/n?” He calls gently, fingertips carefully brushing against her elbow in an attempt to bring her focus back to him. He removes the plate from her iron grip and sets it back carefully in the sink before turning the girl by the shoulders to face him; she still wears that same adoring smile despite the tears that silently fall down her cheeks.

“Forgive me,” she murmurs quietly, “I can’t seem to gather my thoughts properly.”

“Who did this to you? Was it Wanda? Pietro?” Vision press urgently. Y/n sways slightly when he shakes her by the shoulders in a desperate attempt to break her from her trance but still her smile remains.

“Pietro? Oh, he loves me, and I love him.”

“My dear, I don’t think you do,” the man utters sympathetically.

“Of course I do, silly. We were made for each other.”

“Perhaps you were, but not in the way you think. Y/n-“

“Please let go,” she interrupts in a soft, steady voice, looking up at him like a scorned child, “you’re scaring me.”

“If you would just let me,” Vision begins to say, fingertips reaching for her temple in preparation to break her from the spell only to be interrupted by another presence in the room.

“Whoa, what’s going on in here?” Pietro asks with a raised brow and uneasy laugh. “Hey toaster oven, you mind maybe letting go of my girlfriend?”

“Of course, my apologies,” Vision murmurs, stepping away from the girl and allowing her to run into the arms of her boyfriend.

“You okay, babe?” He asks with a raised brow. She isn’t, not in the slightest, but she has a job to do and a role to play, so she merely bats her eyes at him before leaning up and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Never been better. Hey, how does dessert sound?”

“I think that sounds lovely,” Wanda chimes, her sudden appearance in the kitchen doorway startling the already present trio. Vision looks like a deer caught in headlights when Wanda saunters over and gifts him with an innocent kiss to the cheek. “Why don’t you and Pietro get the boys settled down while y/n and I prepare the dessert?”

“What a lovely idea, darling,” Vision chimes with an easy smile— y/n isn’t the only one with a role to play. “Come now, dear brother-in-law.”

“Take good care of my girl, little sis,” Pietro calls on his way out. Wanda smiles, her eyes never once leaving y/n’s trembling frame.

“But of course. What is family for? Y/n, be a dear and grab the plates, won’t you?”

“Yes, Wanda,” the girl chimes obediently. She smiles.

“I noticed you seemed a little shaken up just now, is everything alright?” Wanda asks, feigning obliviousness.

“Oh, you know, just some friendly questioning from my new brother-in-law. I’m sure he just wanted to make sure Pietro had found the right match,” she explains with a passive wave of her hand. Wanda hums softly.

“Well we don’t need to worry about that,” she notes. “You’re here for a reason, y/n. Do you know that?”

“For Pietro, and for you,” she replies earnestly, smiling when Wanda takes her hands in her own and gives them a gentle squeeze. “You’ve always wanted a big family, a real family, one that would never turn its back on you or leave you behind ever again. You want a sister and nieces and nephews and love, and I’m here because I can do all of that and more for you.”

“Exactly right. Family is forever, y/n. Are you ready for the commitment that comes with being a Maximoff?”

“I’ve never been more ready,” y/n responds eagerly. Wanda smiles.

“I’m so relieved you said that,” she utters gently, pulling y/n in for a hug so that she may not see the way in which her eyes begin to glow red and waves of energy begin to emit from her fingertips as she carefully settles herself fully into the girl’s mind. She fills her head with thoughts of Pietro and family, with memories she’s never lived and feelings she’s never had, she fills her with love, and y/n is none the wiser.

“Congratulations, y/n,” Wanda utters quietly, comfortingly stroking the girl’s hair, “you’re a Maximoff now.”

[seiyasabi]

ブン-ブン

(Here’s my Yandere Bunny Polnareff x Female Reader story :)) 

Sorry if this is too OOC or too fast paced! I tried my best, but I’m unhappy with the result. 

TW: !Noncon!, Pol is a hybrid!, breeding kink!, cumflation!, !!!HOMIE PISSES ON YOU (this is not really a kink, just animal instinct)!!!!, alludes to cat violence (Not you)!!, marking (rubs his scent glands on you)!, overstim!, etc..)

Please proceed with caution!!)

Hearing a loud yowl from your backyard, you hurry towards your back doors. It seems your tabby cat, Garfield, has gotten himself into some trouble. 

Clicking your tongue to gain his attention, you unlock the French doors, flinging them open.  

You only allowed the fatass outside for a few minutes! How is he already into something he shouldn’t be in? 

Stepping outside, your eyes are immediately drawn to a mass of white and orange. Your cat is currently wrestling with the biggest rabbit you’ve ever seen. 

It’s the same size as your fatass cat, hell, maybe it’s bigger! Its head alone is larger than your fist! 

Its ears are currently being gnawed on by your feline son, specks of red dripping from the bun’s white coat. Garfield is nailed in the side with a powerful kick, causing him to yowl once more. Seeing this, you snap out of your shock, immediately hauling it towards the fighting duo. 

“Garfield, stop it! Leave that bunny alone!” They pretend they can’t hear you, and continue to brawl. Once by the two, you yoink them up from the lush grass, separating them by holding them in opposite hands. You’re grabbing them by the scruff of their necks, frowning at them, “Alright, break it up!”

Your cat takes a couple swipes at the rabbit, the rabbit tries kicking at your cat, both of them ultimately missing one another. 

“Would you two stop it?” You huff, pouting cutely. The bunny is a lot heavier than you originally thought, forcing you to readjust your hold on it, “Do you see how dumb you look? You’re both fighting the air!” 

Garfield hisses in response, causing you to roll your eyes. At least the rabbit has better manners than him. 

“Fine, whatever. We’re going inside now, so I can patch you hooligans up. You both better both behave.” 

Turning on your heel, you stomp inside, wounded animals cradled to your (bountiful/small) chest. Both of them calm once in the crook of your arm, allowing you to have a moment of peace. 

Great. Now you have to patch up your asshole cat and his rabbit friend. 

Bringing them into your master bathroom, you set them on opposite sides of your two sink vanity. Opening the vanity’s middle drawer, you quickly grab your first aid kit, and lay it between the two annoyed animals. 

“Alright you two, if you can’t get along, don’t go near one another. Stay on opposite sides of the sink, okay?” You keep talking to them as if they know what you’re saying, and unbeknownst to you, a certain rabbit finds it endearing. 

Popping open the box, you withdraw white wrappings, q-tips, and hydrogen peroxide. Twisting the cap open on the peroxide, you set it on the countertop, before pouring a capful of peroxide into it. Grabbing your cat’s shampoo from underneath the sink, you turn on your sink’s tap, filling it with warm water. Once done, you slowly approach the nervous bun. 

“I’m not going to hurt you, but I need to bandage your wounds,” Its nose twitches, seemingly sniffing out if you’re a threat. After a tense moment of silence, it makes itself look as small as possible, showing submission. 

Giggling quietly, you pick it up, and place him in the water. Its head and ears are above the water, keeping them from becoming wet. Dipping your hands into the water, you smooth down its fur, slightly wetting the top of its head. Once done with that, you pour soap into your palm, rubbing your hands together. 

Now that your hands are sudsy, you start to bathe the calm bun. Its blood quickly washes off, cleaning its wounds. 

Once clean, you pick it up, placing it on a hand towel you got from beneath the sink. You dry the bunny off, making sure his ears are completely dry, before dipping a q-top into the peroxide, and cleaning out his wounds completely. 

After seeing his wounds, you realise he doesn’t need any wrappings, thus leaving you to set him on an old t-shirt that’s sitting on your tub’s ledge. 

“There you go, Bun Bun. Sit there until I finish with Garfield,” You unplug the sink on the bun’s side, and move towards your seething cat. Drawing him his own bath, you clean out his wounds, and give him many kisses, “Good boy, Gar. I’m proud of you for not scratching me.”

He meows in response, allowing you to dry him and fix his wounds. 

Now that the two animals are clean and no longer have raw, open wounds, you pick them up, and move towards your living room. 

Setting Garfield on the left side of the couch, you move towards your back door. 

“Okie dokie, now that you’re all clean, you can go home now! I’m sorry that Garfield was mean to you.”

Opening your back door, you gently place the bunny on the ground, before going inside, and locking the door behind you. 

Little did you know that that bunny wasn’t truly a bunny at all, but a man who’s severely touch starved. 

And, is a man who’s completely, totally in love with you.

-

When Polnareff returned to his burrow, he was practically shaking with excitement. He’d found his mate! 

Once laying down, he could hear his leg thumping with happiness. He can’t wait until you go into heat! 

Then, the two of you can have cute kits! He just knows that they’ll be beautiful, just like their mother… 

Oh yes, once you go into heat, he’ll be there to keep you satiated. 

He just needs to make sure that fat cat stays out of his way. 

-

Garfield lays on your tummy, practically smothering you with his weight. Looking down at him from your lying position, you roll your eyes, “You’re so heavy! Move off of me!” 

He ignores your whining, nuzzling against the area above your uterus. Huffing in annoyance, you pick up the snoozing cat, and walk towards the kitchen. The little shit wouldn’t let you move for hours, and you’ve become rather hungry. 

Once in the kitchen, you set him on the counter. He stretches dramatically, before rubbing against you like a madman. His hackles are raised, yellow eyes transfixed on something outside.

Looking out at your backyard, you see a certain giant rabbit. Sighing, you choose to ignore your pet’s dick measuring contest with the bunny outside. 

Pulling out (microwavable food), you quickly open its packaging, and chuck it into the microwave. Pressing in the time, you rest against the counter your cat is standing on, petting down his raised hair. 

“Garfield, you’re honestly acting ridiculous. The rabbit isn’t scary-” The orange fiend jumps into your arms, furiously rubbing himself onto you. He’s cuddling you like a good boy, stopping you from scolding him, “Awe, you’re so cute when you’re clingy and not biting my shirt sleeves.” 

He lets out a small hiss, but stays in your arms willingly. 

His yellow eyes are trained on the bunny, practically taunting the other male. 

Polnareff is seething. How dare that undeserving feline take his rightful place? How dare that fucking cat scent you during your heat? 

It takes everything in him to not crash through the window and beat the cat into the ground. But, he knows his nightly bathroom break outside will be soon, and that’s when he can strike. 

The blue eyed man watches you eat, happy that you’re preparing for your upcoming heat. Ignoring your pet, Jean feels happiness overtake him. You must know that he’s watching, if you’re eating such fatty foods. 

Little does he know, that’s just the normal way of human life. 

You continue to chow down on your yummy food, a smile on your pretty face, none the wiser to your hybrid stalker. 

Once finished, you let Garfield out into the backyard, “Don’t cause trouble with that rabbit, Garfield.” He didn’t listen to you, and ran in the direction of that damn white rabbit. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose in annoyance, but do nothing. If he wants to fight with it, that’s on him at this point. 

Sitting on your couch, you turn on your TV, flipping channels until you land on a forensic science TV show. Leaning back, you recline yourself into a comfortable position. 

You sit in that position for about an hour, before you realise your cat never came inside. Shooting to your feet, you rush outside, turning on your phone’s flashlight. 

“Garfield? Garfield?” You call out, searching through the bushes, and clicking your tongue to grab his attention. 

He doesn’t come, causing you to panic. Garfield and you grew up together, and you can’t remember the last time you went without him. 

“Gar-Gar? Please, please come home!” Tears well up in your eyes, as a sob escapes your throat. 

As the first tear falls, you feel someone grab you from behind, “Why are you crying, Mademoiselle?” 

You jump a mile off of the ground, and stumble, almost falling face first into the grass. Whipping around, you come face to chest with a very naked, very large man. 

“Who the fuck are you, and what are you doing in my backyard?” Your scent is thick with fear, and your voice trembles. A saddened feeling pools in Jean’s heart; he didn’t wish to scare you or hurt you in any way!

“Do not fear me, My Love. I am Jean Pierre Polnareff, your future mate!” Blanching at his statement, you finally notice the very apparent white bunny ears on the top of his head. 

“What. The. Fuck.” 

With that, you turn, and haul ass into your house. His heavy footsteps are heard behind you, same with a few pleading words for you to come back. 

Once inside, you slam your French doors closed, and use your body weight to hold them shut, as you try to lock them. His built frame slams into the doors behind you, using all of his strength to bust inside. 

“There’s no need to be afraid! Just open the doors, My Heart! I’ll treat you well!” Your nimble fingers try to turn the lock, but the constant shaking of the opening makes it very hard to do so. 

“Leave me alone! Did you do something to my cat? Because the moment you showed up, he disappeared!” Immediately, the doors stop shaking, allowing you to lock them. 

A long beat of silence follows, before he speaks again, “Oh, I didn’t realise you found him.” 

You gasp, feeling as though your heart was ripped from your chest. He really did something to Garfield! 

“Get the fuck off of my property! I'll-I'll Call the police!” Tears Pool in your eyes, before dripping down your face. Whoever this bunny man is, he must be dangerous if he goes around killing things for no reason. 

“My heart, how you wound me,” You peek through the curtains, only to see him looking back at you with an intimidating gaze. His ice blue eyes seem to be staring into your soul, “This… Garfield of yours was challenging me. He may have had you first, yes, but the rules of the animal kingdom say that if we find our mates, the new found mate must be left alone. But, that feline of yours blatantly disrespected our relationship, My Heart, so I had to teach him a lesson.” 

You gape at him in horror, backing away from the doors, “Stay away from me! I’m not your mate, I’m not your anything! How do you even know me?” 

You hear him laugh through the door, as he lands a swift kick towards the door handle, “You bathed me just the other week, don’t tell me that you’ve forgotten?” 

Running towards the kitchen, you grab a small knife that is easy to use. Did you seriously help a hybrid? 

You hear him kick a few more times, before the doors come crashing down. His heavy footsteps echo across your hardwood floors, as he makes his way to you. Looking around for an exit, you quickly move towards the kitchen window. 

Unlocking it with ease, you slide it open, making quick work of the screen keeping the bugs out. You hoist yourself onto the counter, shimmying towards the opening, only to be yanked back by two strong hands. In your (dominant Hand) is the knife you grabbed, allowing you to slash at the large man. 

“Get away from me! Don’t fucking touch me!” He releases you for a moment, dodging your erratic movements. A saddened look crossed his handsome face, as he man handled the knife out of your sweaty hands. Once disarmed, he forces you against his chest, chucking the knife into the sink. His now free hands grip your wrists, stopping you from fighting against him. 

“Shh, calm yourself. There’s no need to be so erratic-“ 

“Fuck you! You killed my cat and broke into my house, there’s plenty of reasons for me to be erratic!” You try kicking at his strong legs, but he doesn’t even flinch. 

“I understand that your heat is making you irrational-“ 

“What the fuck are you talking about?! I’m not an animal, I don’t fucking have heats!” Thrashing with your entire body weight, you try to bring him to the ground, but he’s too sturdy for you to do so. 

Instead of answering, he brings his head into the crook of your neck, sniffing the area loudly. You don’t see it, but a look of disgust is apparent. 

“We need to fix this awful smell. Hold still and I’ll scent you-“ You head butt the large male, knocking him back and off of you. 

He stumbles back, and you make a run for the open window. You get halfway out of it once more, before you’re dragged back inside by your waist. 

You’re thrown to the floor in an instant, shoulder hitting the wood harshly. A yelp leaves your lips, as more tears drip down your face. 

“Don’t be difficult, Love. I don’t want to hurt you. Just let me scent you, and I can help you through your heat. You just have to trust me,” 

You shake your head, “No, just leave me alone!” 

He frowns, but nods, “It’s ok if you’re difficult, I’ll make sure everyone knows you’re mine.” 

Without warning, Jean grabs his half hard cock, aiming it towards your crumpled form. 

“What the fu-“ A stream of clear piss hits you straight in the mouth, causing you to gag and splutter in disgust. You wipe at your tongue, a wretched sob wracking your form. 

The stream hits your neck next, before traveling down your entire body. You’re absolutely covered in piss, all whilst crying your eyes out. You try to scramble away, but end up skipping in the acrid liquid. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why the-why the fuck would you do that?” He fries. to approach you, a small smile quirking at his lips, but you kick at him, trying to keep him away from you, “Get the fuck away from me! Don’t fucking touch me! You just fucking pissed on me like a-like wild fucking animal!” 

He grabs you in his arms as you slap, punch, and scratch, quickly bringing you to your bedroom. He tosses you onto your mattress, effectively sullying your new sheets. You try to scramble off of your bed, but his large frame suddenly dwarfs yours, trapping you to it. 

“I didn’t want to do it, My Heart, but you left me no choice. You wouldn’t let me scent you, and I couldn’t let you wear another male’s scent-“ 

“You don’t own me! We don’t even know each other!” You smack at his well toned chest, as you cry. He kisses you on your piss covered forehead, nuzzling into your slightly damp hair. 

“But we will. We’re mates, after all,” With those words, he starts to strip you. “All you need to know is that I know what’s best for you. Right now, you need a big, strong mate to breed your in heat womb, and I’m the right one for the job! So, just lay back and let me help you!” 

Your top half is exposed to him, breasts bouncing as he tears your clothes to shreds. Your hits have no effect on him, as he is stares down at your naked body hungrily. 

“Why are you doing this to me? I’m not a hybrid, it doesn’t make any sense-“ 

“Nature doesn’t need to make sense. Nature decided that we’re made for one another, and the sooner you realise this, the sooner you’ll realise that I’m good for you,” He hoists your thighs over his broad, muscular shoulder, a teasing grin on his face, “But right now, I’m going to make you cum as many times as I can.” 

He attaches his mouth to your unprotected pussy, lips sucking at your clit, whilst his tongue enters your unprepared opening. A loud yelp leaves your lips at the feeling. 

His veiny hands grip the fat of your thighs, as he moves your hips to rub against his face. At first, you’re really uncomfortable, but after a few moments, you’re having to restrain yourself from moaning lamely. Jean is paying special attention to your clit, sending jolts of pleasure down your spine. 

A particularly hard suck has you gushing with arousal, and although it wasn’t an orgasm, it was enough to make your thighs shake pathetically. You can feel him grin against your slit, as he inches a hand down to your cunny, and slips a thick finger inside of you. A loud mewl echoes through your chest, as your once slapping hands cover your face in shame. 

“Are you feeling good, Heart?” His airy voice would be suave if it weren't for the fact that you’re being assaulted, and you’re covered in a strange man’s piss. 

“Nu-no!” He chuckles at your weak attempt of denying him, and dives back into your weeping pussy. Polnareff rubs his finger against you g-spot with ease, not struggling to find it at all. 

That, coupled with the intense suckling on your clit, sends you over the edge. Your juices shoot out onto the white haired man’s face, coating him with your essence. 

“That was a strong orgasm, My Love. Are you sure you’re not enjoying yourself?” The teasing lilt in his voice makes you want to punch him in the face, so that’s exactly what you do. 

He grunts in pain, and in a moment of anger, flips you onto your stomach, hands held firmly in his grasp. Your back is arched just right to be in the prime breeding position, causing his cock to throb in need. Jean always liked a head-strong woman. 

“There’s no need for violence. If you wanted me to make love to you that bad, you could’ve just told me,” He didn’t wait to hear your response, instead choosing to sink his massive cock into your tight walls. Gods, you’re so tight. 

The rabbit couldn’t help bun moan at the feeling of your spasming cunny. It’s almost like you’re trying to draw him in! 

If that’s what you want, then that’s what you’ll receive. 

Jean starts a rapid pace, his hips slamming into yours harshly. His heavy balls smack against your clit with every thrust, causing you to scream in both pleasure and pain. 

Within moments, you’re creaming and gushing around his length. Moaning in unison with you, he speeds up his ministrations, quickly cumming inside of you. His hips stutter, before stopping, allowing him to cum what seemed like buckets. Your body sags, signifying your belief that he was finished, when in all actuality, he’s far from it. 

He immediately restarts his jack hammer pace, his free hand gripping your hip, “You’re perfect! A perfect pussy that squeezes me so good, a perfect personality, and a perfect body. I’m going to knock you up with many kits!” You sob into your pillow, trying to block out his voice, cock, and smell of piss. 

You cum again and again, being filled with liters of virile cum. His hand that once held your hip cups your bloated tummy, a dopey smile covering his handsome features. 

Jean can practically feel you becoming pregnant, and it satisfied him greatly. 

Noticing your lack of movements, he realises that you’ve passed out.

Oh well, when you wake up, he’ll be sure to attend to you once more. 

[rillabrooke]

lots happening in this chapter! i am so normal about this book!

tracking:  pretty words, i’m crying, love, violence/hatred, duality, les mis parallels, foreshadowing

"prevaricate" to avoid telling the truth; to be evasive

"peroration" the concluding part of a speech (i think dickens opened a dictionary to the p section and went to town)

"'If it should go ill with the prisoner, I have ensured access to him, once.'" if it should go ill... and as this is a work of fiction, it must go ill.

"'You are a good man and a true friend' . . . 'And I could not respect your sorrow more, if you were my father.'" :') sydney finally has a family again. his father's death, as we've seen, was the beginning of the end of sydney's life, so to have mr. lorry be his father-figure is like saying he has a new lease on life.

"'How does she look?' 'Anxious and unhappy, but very beautiful.' 'Ah!' It was a long, grieving sound, like a sigh—almost like a sob." sydney: i shouldn't see her. it wouldn't be good for either of us. also sydney: how does she look 👀👀

"Taking note of the wasted air which clouded the naturally handsome features, and having the expression of prisoners’ faces fresh in his mind, he was strongly reminded of that expression." i am UNWELL.

"'I understand the feeling!'" i think i just made a long, grieving sound, like a sigh—almost like a sob ;-;

"'You speak like a Frenchman.' 'I am an old student here.' 'Aha, a perfect Frenchman! Good night, Englishman.'" sydney truly epitomizes the book, doesn't he?

"It was the settled manner of a tired man, who had wandered and struggled and got lost, but who at length struck into his road and saw its end." 1) great line. 2) javert's suicide also references a road to symbolize a great change in life: "Before him he saw two roads, both equally straight; but he did see two; and that terrified him––he who had never in his life known anything but one straight line. And, bitter anguish, these two roads were contradictory. One of these two straight lines excluded the other. Which of the two was the true one?" — Les Miserables, Book Four: Javert Off the Track, Chapter I:  Javert Off the Track 3) i am pretty sure roads are also mentioned in jean valjean's book equivalent of "who am i?", and valjean's conversion/change of heart/etc. takes place on a road.

"Long ago, when he had been famous among his earliest competitors as a youth of great promise, he had followed his father to the grave. . . . 'I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me, shall never die.'" oh man... this is the whole theme of the book. it's an undeniable motif—i am the resurrection and the life; recalled to life; resurrection man; an empty grave... you can read more of my thoughts about it here.

"He carried the child over, and before the timid arm was loosed from his neck asked her for a kiss." sydney can't help himself but help others. in that way, he hasn't changed at all. however, he's a lot nicer about it now.

". . . watching an eddy that turned and turned purposeless, until the stream absorbed it, and carried it on to the sea.—'Like me!' . . . As its silent track in the water disappeared, the prayer that had broken up out of his heart for a merciful consideration of all his poor blindnesses and errors, ended in the words, “I am the resurrection and the life." a return of the motif.

"When her husband was brought in, she turned a look upon him, so sustaining, so encouraging, so full of admiring love and pitying tenderness, yet so courageous for his sake, that it called the healthy blood into his face, brightened his glance, and animated his heart. If there had been any eyes to notice the influence of her look, on Sydney Carton, it would have been seen to be the same influence exactly." ;-; 💕

"The whole jury, as a jury of dogs empannelled to try the deer." a fun simile.

Book the Third—The Track of a Storm

[X] Chapter IX. The Game Made

While Sydney Carton and the Sheep of the prisons were in the adjoining dark room, speaking so low that not a sound was heard, Mr. Lorry looked at Jerry in considerable doubt and mistrust. That honest tradesman’s manner of receiving the look, did not inspire confidence; he changed the leg on which he rested, as often as if he had fifty of those limbs, and were trying them all; he examined his finger-nails with a very questionable closeness of attention; and whenever Mr. Lorry’s eye caught his, he was taken with that peculiar kind of short cough requiring the hollow of a hand before it, which is seldom, if ever, known to be an infirmity attendant on perfect openness of character.

“Jerry,” said Mr. Lorry. “Come here.”

Mr. Cruncher came forward sideways, with one of his shoulders in advance of him.

“What have you been, besides a messenger?”

After some cogitation, accompanied with an intent look at his patron, Mr. Cruncher conceived the luminous idea of replying, “Agicultooral character.”

“My mind misgives me much,” said Mr. Lorry, angrily shaking a forefinger at him, “that you have used the respectable and great house of Tellson’s as a blind, and that you have had an unlawful occupation of an infamous description. If you have, don’t expect me to befriend you when you get back to England. If you have, don’t expect me to keep your secret. Tellson’s shall not be imposed upon.”

“I hope, sir,” pleaded the abashed Mr. Cruncher, “that a gentleman like yourself wot I’ve had the honour of odd jobbing till I’m grey at it, would think twice about harming of me, even if it wos so—I don’t say it is, but even if it wos. And which it is to be took into account that if it wos, it wouldn’t, even then, be all o’ one side. There’d be two sides to it. There might be medical doctors at the present hour, a picking up their guineas where a honest tradesman don’t pick up his fardens—fardens! no, nor yet his half fardens—half fardens! no, nor yet his quarter—a banking away like smoke at Tellson’s, and a cocking their medical eyes at that tradesman on the sly, a going in and going out to their own carriages—ah! equally like smoke, if not more so. Well, that ’ud be imposing, too, on Tellson’s. For you cannot sarse the goose and not the gander. And here’s Mrs. Cruncher, or leastways wos in the Old England times, and would be to-morrow, if cause given, a floppin’ again the business to that degree as is ruinating—stark ruinating! Whereas them medical doctors’ wives don’t flop—catch ’em at it! Or, if they flop, their floppings goes in favour of more patients, and how can you rightly have one without t’other? Then, wot with undertakers, and wot with parish clerks, and wot with sextons, and wot with private watchmen (all awaricious and all in it), a man wouldn’t get much by it, even if it wos so. And wot little a man did get, would never prosper with him, Mr. Lorry. He’d never have no good of it; he’d want all along to be out of the line, if he, could see his way out, being once in—even if it wos so.”

“Ugh!” cried Mr. Lorry, rather relenting, nevertheless, “I am shocked at the sight of you.”

“Now, what I would humbly offer to you, sir,” pursued Mr. Cruncher, “even if it wos so, which I don’t say it is—”

“Don’t prevaricate,” said Mr. Lorry.

“No, I will not, sir,” returned Mr. Crunches as if nothing were further from his thoughts or practice—“which I don’t say it is—wot I would humbly offer to you, sir, would be this. Upon that there stool, at that there Bar, sets that there boy of mine, brought up and growed up to be a man, wot will errand you, message you, general-light-job you, till your heels is where your head is, if such should be your wishes. If it wos so, which I still don’t say it is (for I will not prewaricate to you, sir), let that there boy keep his father’s place, and take care of his mother; don’t blow upon that boy’s father—do not do it, sir—and let that father go into the line of the reg’lar diggin’, and make amends for what he would have undug—if it wos so—by diggin’ of ’em in with a will, and with conwictions respectin’ the futur’ keepin’ of ’em safe. That, Mr. Lorry,” said Mr. Cruncher, wiping his forehead with his arm, as an announcement that he had arrived at the peroration of his discourse, “is wot I would respectfully offer to you, sir. A man don’t see all this here a goin’ on dreadful round him, in the way of Subjects without heads, dear me, plentiful enough fur to bring the price down to porterage and hardly that, without havin’ his serious thoughts of things. And these here would be mine, if it wos so, entreatin’ of you fur to bear in mind that wot I said just now, I up and said in the good cause when I might have kep’ it back.”

“That at least is true,” said Mr. Lorry. “Say no more now. It may be that I shall yet stand your friend, if you deserve it, and repent in action—not in words. I want no more words.”

Mr. Cruncher knuckled his forehead, as Sydney Carton and the spy returned from the dark room. “Adieu, Mr. Barsad,” said the former; “our arrangement thus made, you have nothing to fear from me.”

He sat down in a chair on the hearth, over against Mr. Lorry. When they were alone, Mr. Lorry asked him what he had done?

“Not much. If it should go ill with the prisoner, I have ensured access to him, once.”

Mr. Lorry’s countenance fell.

“It is all I could do,” said Carton. “To propose too much, would be to put this man’s head under the axe, and, as he himself said, nothing worse could happen to him if he were denounced. It was obviously the weakness of the position. There is no help for it.”

“But access to him,” said Mr. Lorry, “if it should go ill before the Tribunal, will not save him.”

“I never said it would.”

Mr. Lorry’s eyes gradually sought the fire; his sympathy with his darling, and the heavy disappointment of his second arrest, gradually weakened them; he was an old man now, overborne with anxiety of late, and his tears fell.

“You are a good man and a true friend,” said Carton, in an altered voice. “Forgive me if I notice that you are affected. I could not see my father weep, and sit by, careless. And I could not respect your sorrow more, if you were my father. You are free from that misfortune, however.”

Though he said the last words, with a slip into his usual manner, there was a true feeling and respect both in his tone and in his touch, that Mr. Lorry, who had never seen the better side of him, was wholly unprepared for. He gave him his hand, and Carton gently pressed it.

“To return to poor Darnay,” said Carton. “Don’t tell Her of this interview, or this arrangement. It would not enable Her to go to see him. She might think it was contrived, in case of the worse, to convey to him the means of anticipating the sentence.”

Mr. Lorry had not thought of that, and he looked quickly at Carton to see if it were in his mind. It seemed to be; he returned the look, and evidently understood it.

“She might think a thousand things,” Carton said, “and any of them would only add to her trouble. Don’t speak of me to her. As I said to you when I first came, I had better not see her. I can put my hand out, to do any little helpful work for her that my hand can find to do, without that. You are going to her, I hope? She must be very desolate to-night.”

“I am going now, directly.”

“I am glad of that. She has such a strong attachment to you and reliance on you. How does she look?”

“Anxious and unhappy, but very beautiful.”

“Ah!”

It was a long, grieving sound, like a sigh—almost like a sob. It attracted Mr. Lorry’s eyes to Carton’s face, which was turned to the fire. A light, or a shade (the old gentleman could not have said which), passed from it as swiftly as a change will sweep over a hill-side on a wild bright day, and he lifted his foot to put back one of the little flaming logs, which was tumbling forward. He wore the white riding-coat and top-boots, then in vogue, and the light of the fire touching their light surfaces made him look very pale, with his long brown hair, all untrimmed, hanging loose about him. His indifference to fire was sufficiently remarkable to elicit a word of remonstrance from Mr. Lorry; his boot was still upon the hot embers of the flaming log, when it had broken under the weight of his foot.

“I forgot it,” he said.

Mr. Lorry’s eyes were again attracted to his face. Taking note of the wasted air which clouded the naturally handsome features, and having the expression of prisoners’ faces fresh in his mind, he was strongly reminded of that expression.

“And your duties here have drawn to an end, sir?” said Carton, turning to him.

“Yes. As I was telling you last night when Lucie came in so unexpectedly, I have at length done all that I can do here. I hoped to have left them in perfect safety, and then to have quitted Paris. I have my Leave to Pass. I was ready to go.”

They were both silent.

“Yours is a long life to look back upon, sir?” said Carton, wistfully.

“I am in my seventy-eighth year.”

“You have been useful all your life; steadily and constantly occupied; trusted, respected, and looked up to?”

“I have been a man of business, ever since I have been a man. Indeed, I may say that I was a man of business when a boy.”

“See what a place you fill at seventy-eight. How many people will miss you when you leave it empty!”

“A solitary old bachelor,” answered Mr. Lorry, shaking his head. “There is nobody to weep for me.”

“How can you say that? Wouldn’t She weep for you? Wouldn’t her child?”

“Yes, yes, thank God. I didn’t quite mean what I said.”

“It is a thing to thank God for; is it not?”

“Surely, surely.”

“If you could say, with truth, to your own solitary heart, to-night, ‘I have secured to myself the love and attachment, the gratitude or respect, of no human creature; I have won myself a tender place in no regard; I have done nothing good or serviceable to be remembered by!’ your seventy-eight years would be seventy-eight heavy curses; would they not?”

“You say truly, Mr. Carton; I think they would be.”

Sydney turned his eyes again upon the fire, and, after a silence of a few moments, said:

“I should like to ask you:—Does your childhood seem far off? Do the days when you sat at your mother’s knee, seem days of very long ago?”

Responding to his softened manner, Mr. Lorry answered:

“Twenty years back, yes; at this time of my life, no. For, as I draw closer and closer to the end, I travel in the circle, nearer and nearer to the beginning. It seems to be one of the kind smoothings and preparings of the way. My heart is touched now, by many remembrances that had long fallen asleep, of my pretty young mother (and I so old!), and by many associations of the days when what we call the World was not so real with me, and my faults were not confirmed in me.”

“I understand the feeling!” exclaimed Carton, with a bright flush. “And you are the better for it?”

“I hope so.”

Carton terminated the conversation here, by rising to help him on with his outer coat; “But you,” said Mr. Lorry, reverting to the theme, “you are young.”

“Yes,” said Carton. “I am not old, but my young way was never the way to age. Enough of me.”

“And of me, I am sure,” said Mr. Lorry. “Are you going out?”

“I’ll walk with you to her gate. You know my vagabond and restless habits. If I should prowl about the streets a long time, don’t be uneasy; I shall reappear in the morning. You go to the Court to-morrow?”

“Yes, unhappily.”

“I shall be there, but only as one of the crowd. My Spy will find a place for me. Take my arm, sir.”

Mr. Lorry did so, and they went down-stairs and out in the streets. A few minutes brought them to Mr. Lorry’s destination. Carton left him there; but lingered at a little distance, and turned back to the gate again when it was shut, and touched it. He had heard of her going to the prison every day. “She came out here,” he said, looking about him, “turned this way, must have trod on these stones often. Let me follow in her steps.”

It was ten o’clock at night when he stood before the prison of La Force, where she had stood hundreds of times. A little wood-sawyer, having closed his shop, was smoking his pipe at his shop-door.

“Good night, citizen,” said Sydney Carton, pausing in going by; for, the man eyed him inquisitively.

“Good night, citizen.”

“How goes the Republic?”

“You mean the Guillotine. Not ill. Sixty-three to-day. We shall mount to a hundred soon. Samson and his men complain sometimes, of being exhausted. Ha, ha, ha! He is so droll, that Samson. Such a Barber!”

“Do you often go to see him—”

“Shave? Always. Every day. What a barber! You have seen him at work?”

“Never.”

“Go and see him when he has a good batch. Figure this to yourself, citizen; he shaved the sixty-three to-day, in less than two pipes! Less than two pipes. Word of honour!”

As the grinning little man held out the pipe he was smoking, to explain how he timed the executioner, Carton was so sensible of a rising desire to strike the life out of him, that he turned away.

“But you are not English,” said the wood-sawyer, “though you wear English dress?”

“Yes,” said Carton, pausing again, and answering over his shoulder.

“You speak like a Frenchman.”

“I am an old student here.”

“Aha, a perfect Frenchman! Good night, Englishman.”

“Good night, citizen.”

“But go and see that droll dog,” the little man persisted, calling after him. “And take a pipe with you!”

Sydney had not gone far out of sight, when he stopped in the middle of the street under a glimmering lamp, and wrote with his pencil on a scrap of paper. Then, traversing with the decided step of one who remembered the way well, several dark and dirty streets���much dirtier than usual, for the best public thoroughfares remained uncleansed in those times of terror—he stopped at a chemist’s shop, which the owner was closing with his own hands. A small, dim, crooked shop, kept in a tortuous, up-hill thoroughfare, by a small, dim, crooked man.

Giving this citizen, too, good night, as he confronted him at his counter, he laid the scrap of paper before him. “Whew!” the chemist whistled softly, as he read it. “Hi! hi! hi!”

Sydney Carton took no heed, and the chemist said:

“For you, citizen?”

“For me.”

“You will be careful to keep them separate, citizen? You know the consequences of mixing them?”

“Perfectly.”

Certain small packets were made and given to him. He put them, one by one, in the breast of his inner coat, counted out the money for them, and deliberately left the shop. “There is nothing more to do,” said he, glancing upward at the moon, “until to-morrow. I can’t sleep.”

It was not a reckless manner, the manner in which he said these words aloud under the fast-sailing clouds, nor was it more expressive of negligence than defiance. It was the settled manner of a tired man, who had wandered and struggled and got lost, but who at length struck into his road and saw its end.

Long ago, when he had been famous among his earliest competitors as a youth of great promise, he had followed his father to the grave. His mother had died, years before. These solemn words, which had been read at his father’s grave, arose in his mind as he went down the dark streets, among the heavy shadows, with the moon and the clouds sailing on high above him. “I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me, shall never die.”

In a city dominated by the axe, alone at night, with natural sorrow rising in him for the sixty-three who had been that day put to death, and for to-morrow’s victims then awaiting their doom in the prisons, and still of to-morrow’s and to-morrow’s, the chain of association that brought the words home, like a rusty old ship’s anchor from the deep, might have been easily found. He did not seek it, but repeated them and went on.

With a solemn interest in the lighted windows where the people were going to rest, forgetful through a few calm hours of the horrors surrounding them; in the towers of the churches, where no prayers were said, for the popular revulsion had even travelled that length of self-destruction from years of priestly impostors, plunderers, and profligates; in the distant burial-places, reserved, as they wrote upon the gates, for Eternal Sleep; in the abounding gaols; and in the streets along which the sixties rolled to a death which had become so common and material, that no sorrowful story of a haunting Spirit ever arose among the people out of all the working of the Guillotine; with a solemn interest in the whole life and death of the city settling down to its short nightly pause in fury; Sydney Carton crossed the Seine again for the lighter streets.

Few coaches were abroad, for riders in coaches were liable to be suspected, and gentility hid its head in red nightcaps, and put on heavy shoes, and trudged. But, the theatres were all well filled, and the people poured cheerfully out as he passed, and went chatting home. At one of the theatre doors, there was a little girl with a mother, looking for a way across the street through the mud. He carried the child over, and before the timid arm was loosed from his neck asked her for a kiss.

“I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me, shall never die.”

Now, that the streets were quiet, and the night wore on, the words were in the echoes of his feet, and were in the air. Perfectly calm and steady, he sometimes repeated them to himself as he walked; but, he heard them always.

The night wore out, and, as he stood upon the bridge listening to the water as it splashed the river-walls of the Island of Paris, where the picturesque confusion of houses and cathedral shone bright in the light of the moon, the day came coldly, looking like a dead face out of the sky. Then, the night, with the moon and the stars, turned pale and died, and for a little while it seemed as if Creation were delivered over to Death’s dominion.

But, the glorious sun, rising, seemed to strike those words, that burden of the night, straight and warm to his heart in its long bright rays. And looking along them, with reverently shaded eyes, a bridge of light appeared to span the air between him and the sun, while the river sparkled under it.

The strong tide, so swift, so deep, and certain, was like a congenial friend, in the morning stillness. He walked by the stream, far from the houses, and in the light and warmth of the sun fell asleep on the bank. When he awoke and was afoot again, he lingered there yet a little longer, watching an eddy that turned and turned purposeless, until the stream absorbed it, and carried it on to the sea.—“Like me.”

A trading-boat, with a sail of the softened colour of a dead leaf, then glided into his view, floated by him, and died away. As its silent track in the water disappeared, the prayer that had broken up out of his heart for a merciful consideration of all his poor blindnesses and errors, ended in the words, “I am the resurrection and the life.”

Mr. Lorry was already out when he got back, and it was easy to surmise where the good old man was gone. Sydney Carton drank nothing but a little coffee, ate some bread, and, having washed and changed to refresh himself, went out to the place of trial.

The court was all astir and a-buzz, when the black sheep—whom many fell away from in dread—pressed him into an obscure corner among the crowd. Mr. Lorry was there, and Doctor Manette was there. She was there, sitting beside her father.

When her husband was brought in, she turned a look upon him, so sustaining, so encouraging, so full of admiring love and pitying tenderness, yet so courageous for his sake, that it called the healthy blood into his face, brightened his glance, and animated his heart. If there had been any eyes to notice the influence of her look, on Sydney Carton, it would have been seen to be the same influence exactly.

Before that unjust Tribunal, there was little or no order of procedure, ensuring to any accused person any reasonable hearing. There could have been no such Revolution, if all laws, forms, and ceremonies, had not first been so monstrously abused, that the suicidal vengeance of the Revolution was to scatter them all to the winds.

Every eye was turned to the jury. The same determined patriots and good republicans as yesterday and the day before, and to-morrow and the day after. Eager and prominent among them, one man with a craving face, and his fingers perpetually hovering about his lips, whose appearance gave great satisfaction to the spectators. A life-thirsting, cannibal-looking, bloody-minded juryman, the Jacques Three of St. Antoine. The whole jury, as a jury of dogs empannelled to try the deer.

Every eye then turned to the five judges and the public prosecutor. No favourable leaning in that quarter to-day. A fell, uncompromising, murderous business-meaning there. Every eye then sought some other eye in the crowd, and gleamed at it approvingly; and heads nodded at one another, before bending forward with a strained attention.

Charles Evrémonde, called Darnay. Released yesterday. Reaccused and retaken yesterday. Indictment delivered to him last night. Suspected and Denounced enemy of the Republic, Aristocrat, one of a family of tyrants, one of a race proscribed, for that they had used their abolished privileges to the infamous oppression of the people. Charles Evrémonde, called Darnay, in right of such proscription, absolutely Dead in Law.

To this effect, in as few or fewer words, the Public Prosecutor.

The President asked, was the Accused openly denounced or secretly?

“Openly, President.”

“By whom?”

“Three voices. Ernest Defarge, wine-vendor of St. Antoine.”

“Good.”

“Thérèse Defarge, his wife.”

“Good.”

“Alexandre Manette, physician.”

A great uproar took place in the court, and in the midst of it, Doctor Manette was seen, pale and trembling, standing where he had been seated.

“President, I indignantly protest to you that this is a forgery and a fraud. You know the accused to be the husband of my daughter. My daughter, and those dear to her, are far dearer to me than my life. Who and where is the false conspirator who says that I denounce the husband of my child!”

“Citizen Manette, be tranquil. To fail in submission to the authority of the Tribunal would be to put yourself out of Law. As to what is dearer to you than life, nothing can be so dear to a good citizen as the Republic.”

Loud acclamations hailed this rebuke. The President rang his bell, and with warmth resumed.

“If the Republic should demand of you the sacrifice of your child herself, you would have no duty but to sacrifice her. Listen to what is to follow. In the meanwhile, be silent!”

Frantic acclamations were again raised. Doctor Manette sat down, with his eyes looking around, and his lips trembling; his daughter drew closer to him. The craving man on the jury rubbed his hands together, and restored the usual hand to his mouth.

Defarge was produced, when the court was quiet enough to admit of his being heard, and rapidly expounded the story of the imprisonment, and of his having been a mere boy in the Doctor’s service, and of the release, and of the state of the prisoner when released and delivered to him. This short examination followed, for the court was quick with its work.

“You did good service at the taking of the Bastille, citizen?”

“I believe so.”

Here, an excited woman screeched from the crowd: “You were one of the best patriots there. Why not say so? You were a cannonier that day there, and you were among the first to enter the accursed fortress when it fell. Patriots, I speak the truth!”

It was The Vengeance who, amidst the warm commendations of the audience, thus assisted the proceedings. The President rang his bell; but, The Vengeance, warming with encouragement, shrieked, “I defy that bell!” wherein she was likewise much commended.

“Inform the Tribunal of what you did that day within the Bastille, citizen.”

“I knew,” said Defarge, looking down at his wife, who stood at the bottom of the steps on which he was raised, looking steadily up at him; “I knew that this prisoner, of whom I speak, had been confined in a cell known as One Hundred and Five, North Tower. I knew it from himself. He knew himself by no other name than One Hundred and Five, North Tower, when he made shoes under my care. As I serve my gun that day, I resolve, when the place shall fall, to examine that cell. It falls. I mount to the cell, with a fellow-citizen who is one of the Jury, directed by a gaoler. I examine it, very closely. In a hole in the chimney, where a stone has been worked out and replaced, I find a written paper. This is that written paper. I have made it my business to examine some specimens of the writing of Doctor Manette. This is the writing of Doctor Manette. I confide this paper, in the writing of Doctor Manette, to the hands of the President.”

“Let it be read.”

In a dead silence and stillness—the prisoner under trial looking lovingly at his wife, his wife only looking from him to look with solicitude at her father, Doctor Manette keeping his eyes fixed on the reader, Madame Defarge never taking hers from the prisoner, Defarge never taking his from his feasting wife, and all the other eyes there intent upon the Doctor, who saw none of them—the paper was read, as follows.

[leviiattacks]

Two Faced | Chapter Ten

↳ levi ackerman, the very person who was about to kindly behead you by a surprising turn of events manages to become your loving husband? you would be elated if this was true love, but it’s all thanks to a mysterious magic spell that your life is spared, for now at least.

pairing :: duke!levi x duchess!reader genre :: royal au ??? (at this point idek) angst, fluff, slice of life etc ?? word count :: 4k author note :: haha.... wowww it's been long since i last updated. honestly my physical and mental health have just been horrible... that's about it, i lost a lot of motivation but if you're still reading i am very thankful and i will try to deliver the story well. i tried my best but writing whilst sick is very tiresome :-) tags :: @patience-is-here​ , @chwlogy​ , @a--nonymousse​ , @imkumichan​ 

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Keeping yourself cooped up within Levi's estate and never daring to step a foot outside should have been what you had done. Blackmailing him to keep you confined within the walls of your bedroom would be much better compared to the problem you have to resolve now. Perhaps if you had done so you wouldn't have collided face first into this muddle.

Jean fiddles with the ends of his button up, he doesn't take the chance to glance up at any of his superiors. He's either much too embarrassed or has nothing noteworthy to start off with.

Erwin chooses to call the shots seeing as neither you or the Viscount by your side wish to begin.

"You both understand why we're here. Correct me if I'm wrong?" The Commander looks between you, Jean and your unfortunate excuse of a husband. Suddenly it looks as if the gears and cogs in Jean's brain move without warning.

Offering a demure nod you expect for him to follow in your footsteps and do the same only he stands there looking between you and Levi.

"Wait...The two of you are? A couple?" Stunned isn't the word, Jean's completely flabbergasted.

"If you figured that out this late, I do not understand why Erwin sees you remotely fit for my team." Levi's beyond insulted at the fact he's only just understood the situation.

Jean, now more intimidated than ever before straightens his back and coughs clumsily, "Sorry." He murmurs chestnut eyes making contact with the hardwood floors.

The Commander's laced hands sit atop his desk, elegant fingers moving similar to honey on a spoon. He sighs not out of fatigue but pride. Whatever plan he's come up with has to be decent at the very least, his body language is telling you that much.

"We have a number of possibilities we can choose from. We owe that pleasure to Mr Kirstein here." Erwin offers him an almost cynical smile, you can't help but gulp thinking about how this is essentially your fault. With all the constant training sessions and team building tasks it makes sense for Jean to have completely forgot about your unspoken rule. Solely blaming him is incorrect.

Raising your arm above your head to intervene you make it known that you're aware of Levi shooting you a look of warning by returning it. It's best he knows you don't care for anyone's opinion let alone his.

"Permission to speak Commander?"

Your request is agreed to immediately with the wave of  Erwin's hand.

"It's my fault for not reminding Jean. I'll take the blame, I hadn't even told him the full story concerning me and Levi."

Levi doesn't enjoy your defense in the slightest. "I don't expect my wife to fling herself at other men and allow for them to snoop around gathering the details of our personal lives."

Scoffing you shield yourself with your arms over your chest.

"Oh dear husband. If you want to get personal do tell me where my family is?" It's an inside joke only Levi will be able to understand.

"If you call those people family your standards are disgustingly low."

"Maybe that explains why I settled for you."

Again, other's opinions are not at the forefront of your priority list. Regardless it's quite enjoyable pushing Levi further into a corner with that sentence. You see the internal struggle play out within him. Jaw clenched, hands balled together. He doesn't have an appropriate response

Jean bursts out unable to hold it in any longer, chest trembling with every quake of laughter that ripples through him you have to shove him with your elbow. For a Viscount his etiquette sure is nonexistent.

"My word, the two of you sound like..."

Levi stares at him most probably expecting something along the lines of "An old married couple."

But, no. It's nothing anyone in the room expects. That includes you.

"It's as if you're unhappy with each other..."

Not a noise is made after that. Jean isn't mistaken, your heart is miserable. You've never had many relationships to begin with, whether it be familial, romantic or platonic and for someone such as your husband to treat you the way he does - it feels futile having to navigate around the complexities. Even if he isn't really your husband it's disappointing to reflect on your marriage so suddenly.

Feeling your face droop a little you bite your bottom lip with your teeth. Hearing the truth from someone you barely expect to hear it from has an effect on you.

You're so caught up analyzing everything it takes you a minute to even register Levi grumbling and lunging forward pilfering the collar of Jean's shirt.

"Every day you prove to be more and more pathetic than I expect." Levi turns to look at you after that. His stare bores into you but he doesn't come off threatening, you assume his last remark is directed solely at Jean.

When he turns back only glaring at Jean now with even more tenacity than before. He's ready to snap but Erwin has clearly had enough of the unwanted altercation in his office.

"Enough. The both of you. This is most bothersome." At the Commander's orders Levi is silenced although it takes all of his resolve to do so.

Finally bothering you take a good look at Jean. He's calm in an incredibly out of character way.

Is this not the man who trembled in his boots the first time he and Levi came into contact? It's almost as if he seems pleased with himself for drawing out such a reaction from his Captain.

Erwin shuffles through stacks of paperwork on his desk. The man needs an assistant at this point. You doubt you could find anything in that haphazard pile. Edges of crumpled paper poke out uncomfortably and Erwin becomes increasingly annoyed when he can't locate what it is he's looking for.

Just as you're about to ask if he requires any assistance it seems he's found what he's been looking for, that's if his eyes are any indication of the relief he feels.

"This." He holds up the paper, all eyes in the room are trained on it. "Under normal circumstances would not have to become an option."

"But these aren't normal circumstances?" Jean's thoughtless question is irksome when the answer is so obviously staring him down in the face.

Nonetheless Erwin nods incapable of losing his cool over something so minor.

"Sign to confirm to my proposition."

The document he places onto the desk isn't what you imagine, you can practically feel the dread climb up your throat once you're done scanning it. Jean's full name placed right next to yours in bold lettering has your stomach lurching. You don't have to read the rest to understand the new circumstances you've landed into.

To make matters worse Erwin places two rings down right in front of the both of you.

A pot of boiling hot water is what you've been thrown in.

Are you supposed to be some sort of replacement for potatoes? What's Jean in this scenario? Carrots?

"It is troublesome to have the two of you put on an act to be involved with one another but I see it as our safest option." Erwin notices your parted lips and slacked jaw. "You need not worry this isn't a marriage contract, you're simply acting."

There's no path out of this pot, you and Jean will simply have to deal with the prospect of being boiled alive.

Ah, you forgot to mention who would act as the hot water but you're sure the suspect is obvious.

Even right now Levi's fury radiates off of him, it's unclear if he was given the details of the Commander's plan beforehand but if his furrowed brow and pursed lips are indicators of the truth he must have had no idea.

Your suspicions are confirmed to be correct once Levi reaches forward plucking the paper away, it just so happens he's snatched it away the very moment Jean leans in to get a closer look at it.

"I was never informed of this."

Erwin gives him a guarded smile. "Do you have any jurisdiction over what I think is best?" Is his freezing reply.

"Yes. When it concerns my wife and another man - Correction. I meant boy."

Jean's taken aback by the subtle jab and shamefacedly shoves his hands into his pockets.

You watch the scene go down with a perplexed look the entire time. Levi's frustration seems to be legitimate yet he has no logical reason for it to ever be present in the first place. Unless he has a plan which outperforms the one you've just been given he's doing this all for nothing.

"I assure you your wife is in safe hands so long as you stop interfering."

Levi's about to bark back until he catches your confusion. He's become aware of your tilted head and telling expression and only then does he silence himself permanently not before sighing deeply, muttering an expletive under his breath.

 "I’ll sign it.” That seems to be Jean’s indirect way of asking what your choice will be.

“I... will too.” Is your hesitant reply.

Levi only becomes avoidant after that. Half way through Erwin explaining how you and Jean have to look believable Levi just ups and leaves without a word. Perhaps you've hurt his pride but for what he's done to you it's a small price to pay and so you do nothing to make amends. He has no reason to feel uncomfortable, you aren't really his wife, you're essentially strangers. Does he even know your favourite colour? Your favourite food? Your favourite pastime?  

You doubt he does.

Jean and you are rather successful with your act. It feels pleasant having him brush your hair out of your face occasionally or lovingly place a hand on your forehead to check if you've come down with a fever. He laces his fingers with yours when others are around and when they aren't he lets the act go. It's satisfying having a cooperative partner.

Naturally Jean is still a tease, even now he makes the odd suggestive comment or two in passing but you can't say you hate it. In fact it excites you to think of a response that borders the edge of teasing and simple fun between friends.

The increasing openness between the two of you is enough for the cadets to deduce that he's most probably the noble man you wed in secrecy.

It's only been a few days since yours and Jean's newfound behaviour, thankfully you haven't been flooded with questions just yet. The higher ups sit nearby during breakfast, lunch and dinner keeping watch over the cadets. It leaves you able to eat and drink without having to handle the constant inquiring of your comrades.

However, you aren't as lucky today. A meeting's taking place and after yours and Jean's convincing act Erwin deems it safe enough to leave you unattended for a short while.

Of course it doesn't go according to plan because when you're involved when does anything ever go according to plan?

The cadets are flocked around your table at dinner as soon as they notice they've been left to their own devices. The opportunity to sit down without everyone invading your space is barely provided to you. Krista is sat to your right leaning into you rather animatedly, Annie has made herself at home sat across you which in itself is completely out of character and slightly unnerving, Annie never and you repeat never concerns herself with you.

"Why did you and Jean hide it?" Armin hovers over your shoulder as per usual. He can't be blamed for naturally being inquisitive and it does give you the opportunity to lay out the foundations of your plan. Now's your time to muster up one of your rehearsed responses.

"It would interfere with work." You respond immediately wanting to appear natural. Pondering on an answer for too long would raise suspicions.

Armin makes a sound of approval and shuffles into the seat next to Krista, that is until Ymir can be overheard telling him to move if he knows what's best for him.

"I have a question." Says a voice across the table, you don't have to look at the blonde parallel to you to know it's her.

For once Annie’s initiated a conversation with you, she’s not particularly great at keeping her intentions discreet. Maybe she doesn’t care if you can tell what she’s up to? But if that’s the case her plan isn’t all that foolproof, there's no way you're to let any details slip away.

Sharply inhaling waiting for what it is she has to say you find that her sentence never comes. Instead she shakes her head and murmurs a "Never mind.". You don't even have the time to ask her to stick around, she's already rose from her seat taking her unfinished plate of food with her, you let her go assuming she feels unwell.

"So how'd you two meet? Jean already told me earlier but I'd like to hear your side." Reiner's taken Annie's empty seat and his gaze is unwavering. The trap they've set up is a clever one. Surveying the hall for Bertholdt you know he has to be observing too. The two never operate alone.

You suddenly hate Reiner. For whatever reason he and his trio are endlessly obsessed with you, they've caught onto something that's for sure but you don't know what it is and now they've completely ensnared you with a backhanded trick. There's no way out of this, you have no idea what it is Jean said to Reiner, the chances of you providing the exact same answer are slim to none.

"My memory is really fuzzy, I don't think Jean gave off much of a first impression so I've forgot." Your horrible excuse doesn't fly by, everyone simultaneously narrows their eyes in disbelief. What you've said isn't convincing at all.

Husband and Wife yet you've forgot how the two of you met?

Fidgeting with the ring adorning your finger the cool metal isn't doing a great job at alleviating the pressure of the situation.

"Jean said the two of you hit it off almost instantly. Who's being dishonest?"

Reiner's either lying to catch you out or he's saying the God honest truth and right now all you can do is hope and pray for a miracle to sweep you off your feet. Mikasa and Jean still aren't within view. At this point you're hoping for Levi to save you, it doesn't matter how so long as you escape unscathed.

"Hey, I think we're just making her anxious with all the questions." Armin is quick to side with you, deep down you know he only does so due to the respect he holds for his Commander. You thank the Heaven's for Erwin's admirable smile and commendable leadership, it seems to be the only reason Armin believes you and Jean.

"Or she's lying." Reiner's resting his head in one of his palms, he's still boring holes right into your frame.

Your eye twitches, this is all unnecessary and uncalled for, whatever it is Reiner wants out of you it better be worthwhile.

He still eggs you on. "You walked out of the Captain's quarters. I saw you."

Standing up and leaning forward you plant your feet to the ground as firmly as you can you.

"And if she did what's it to you?"

Fighting the urge to sigh in relief you've never been happier to hear Jean's voice but something's off. His breathing sounds heavy - like he fought his way to get inside. Turning only then do you notice Mikasa standing by him. She looks equally as exhausted. There's been some sort of a struggle.

"You think it was funny getting Annie to guard the door?" He heaves and runs a frustrated hand through his hair.

"And you think hiding secrets from the rest of us is any better?" Reiner's adamant there's information that the both of you are hiding, he's not wrong but that doesn't change that he's challenging you unprovoked without a reasonable motive.

"We're hiding nothing." Unlike you Jean is sure of his words, he's confident speaking up and he seems to be able to pull off the role of a protective husband perfectly.

“I came out of the Captain’s quarters because he had access to hot water. He said I could use his shower. That’s all it was.”

Reiner quirks an eyebrow upwards and is pleased with your answer. God you’ve said something incriminating haven’t you? It's not incriminating per se but it's without doubt malleable and easy to twist.

“Jean, you were okay with your wife doing that at the dead of night?” Reiner's still leading the interrogation.

“I was the one who suggested it.”

“I don’t believe you’re a couple." If it were Reiner who said that you wouldn't care much, after all it's pretty clear he never believed it but to your displeasure it isn't him who's spoken. Ymir's lopsided grin is all knowing and you're beginning to lose your footing in this argument any second now if any more people start to side against you.

If Ymir disagrees that almost certainly means Krista has her qualms about you too, you've observed beforehand that Ymir tends to speak for Krista on occasion. This happens to be one of those times.

Krista timidly raises her hand and Ymir gives her an approving nod encouraging her to speak.

"I don't like the conflict going on but it is suspicious..."

"Why have I only ever seen you two hold hands?" She asks.

Ymir slings her arm over Krista's shoulder affectionately. "Yeah, I tell Krista I'll marry her every day of the week."

Mikasa mumbles something unintelligible, Ymir gives her a look of warning but Mikasa doesn't seem to care. Instead she repeats what she has to say loud and clear.

"Stick to only speaking when Krista is involved."

Krista holds Ymir by her arm so she doesn't get up, she knows how she gets when she's been provoked. Even if Krista has her suspicions it isn't worth Ymir gaining a permanent penalty point on her record.

Thankfully Armin cuts in. "There's no solid evidence to show they're lying and even if they are the Commander's most probably told them to. Don't you think there's a reason? Leave it be if that's the case. I trust him with our lives."

"We have a right to know." Annie's returned and insists to keep this back and forth going.

Just as you're about to fire back Jean takes a hold of your waist, you look down and seeing his large hands planted securely around your frame has your stomach bubbling with anticipation.

"What are you— "

And then he kisses you, he doesn't ask and instinctively your arms move to whack his chest but you stop yourself in time. You realize it's for the sake of your plan not falling through and so you gently place your hands on his shoulders attempting to ground yourself. It becomes increasingly difficult when you sink deeper into the kiss than you'd like to admit. Blood rushes to the tips of your ears and the thumping of your heartbeat makes it difficult to articulate any thoughts, all you really know is that you like this, whatever this is.

Jean's hands don't feel like they were made to rest against your back, they feel slightly out of place as if he's a key and you're an unmatched lock. In spite of that the circles he comfortingly rubs into the sides of your waist are appreciated, you almost forget you're in a room full of people until you're flooded by cold air.

You've been dragged off of Jean and something in the pit of your stomach has you wishing Levi isn't responsible for the interruption.

To your relief it's just Hange, they're glowing in mischief, the grin on their face shows they aren't mad. They might even find this entertaining.

"Well I be damned... maybe they weren't bluffing?" Connie's been persuaded by the looks of it and Krista's busy whispering to Ymir, you hear the faint sound of the word "Romantic" escape her lips, she's equally as convinced as Connie.

Hange smacks your back light-heartedly and looks to the door for a second. "We leave ya' both for a while and you decide to give everyone a show?"

Erwin's stood by the doorway with a humorous smile playing at his lips, Levi however is anything but amused, he glares at you with murderous eyes, he looks like he's ready to end your life then and there but you know he won't dare do so and for a second you feel braver than you ever have before. Without much thought you grab onto Jean's forearm.

"Me and my husband will get going now!" You allow your gaze to loiter when you get to Reiner. He grunts an apology and you're oh so tempted to ask him to repeat himself but you'd rather not instigate anything.

With that said and done you and Jean leave after giving the performance of your lives.

Slowly but gradually the sky outside becomes dark.

The will to sleep left your body long ago. It's by pure luck that you even manage to catch three hours of rest. Training is the only available distraction and dying out in battle isn't favourable by any means, your boredom may as well be used resourcefully - Strapping yourself up in your ODM gear is the best option.

A quarter way through your warm up you can sense a presence behind you, the leaves rustle and the wind feels noticeably quieter. You'd bother to turn around to see who's intruded but Levi's snuck close enough for you to be able to smell his perfume from where you're stood.

"Feel disrespected? Embarrassed even?" You jab at him knowing it'll rile him up, you don't face him not wanting to give him the pleasure of seeing your face.

"Watch your mouth." he warns sharply.

Rolling your eyes you go about your business, it stays that way for a few minutes. All the while Levi stares at you darting from tree to tree, his scrutinizing gaze scalding you repeatedly.

"Y/N!" He yells at the top of his lungs.

For some unknown reason you automatically stop and lower yourself to the ground

"I have something to tell you." Comes his tense follow up. A finger of his latches onto one of the leather straps on your back.

You can't believe he's still denying the undeniable.

"You can wait till tomorrow. I'll be going to bed."

Levi doesn't seem to care for your cold response and proceeds with no warning.

"I'm jealous." His voice shakes. The grip he has on your harness doesn't let up. With your back turned to him you're still somehow able to detect the very obvious crack of pain.

Levi, jealous?

Gritting your teeth together you feel deceived.

How much longer will you have to tolerate Levi's push and pull?

“May I ask, what he is to you, my love?”

Your breathing grows heavy, tensing up you're completely shocked by the term of endearment that falls from his lips. You haven't heard it for so long, Levi sounds eerily different.

You hate to admit it but a flicker of foolish hope lights in your chest.

"Levi why would you ask— "

"Why don't you call me Lev anymore?" He whispers sounding strangled. You can't take it anymore and hesitantly look his way.

His eyes are filled with tears "I'm sorry my love, I don't know what went wrong." you falter for a second not knowing what to think.

At that moment the flicker becomes a flame.

The man who stands right before you is meant to be dead, never to be seen again. By all accounts this should be impossible, but Lev has always been a fighter.

Bitterness stings your heart, the wounds you've collected are still fresh but despite your body's protests you don't flinch when he gently takes a hold of your wrist, bringing it closer to his mouth.

"Lev...? Is that really you...?" You ask desperately.

The warm kiss he presses against your pulse point provides you with the answer you've been longing for.

[mischas]

oof that mischa interview. it's funny some ppl thought she was being inconsistent with her allegations last year when mischa's been harping on about how unhappy she was since c.2006 with the same consistent messaging! it was interesting that tate was on the pod this week and basically put the entire core four on blast for showing up late, not knowing lines. now that's a totally different narrative than what was being told in 2006

I think any interview given during that time period of their (the core four's) lives was subject to stretching the truth. I spent all day reading Mischa interviews from scans that French fansite still has up from 2005-2007 and there's a lot about her that turned out... differently. Like her hating the party scene, crafting this really wholesome image, talking about the close relationship she has to her mom, etc. Many of the interviews were written almost exactly the same, shining a light on her as this green girl next door who hates partying and detests being compared to Marissa who's a mess of a character. Like damn. She's had those lines memorized for years, apparently. She's always, at least from 2005 on, parroted the line that Marissa is a strung out party girl. It kind of floored me to read that over and over. I can only guess that the show's publicity parroted these lines through subtext or it was the direction Mischa was given on and off screen. It's hard for me to reconcile the person reducing Marissa to what the message boards wrote about her with playing this extremely kind and vulnerable character with addiction issues and trauma. I know I'm hella biased, but damn.

Now that we know that Mischa was fired from the show, it's easier to see how she and her PR tackled press in the aftermath of her exit. We can see the strategy. Frankly, it was laid out in her interviews for years leading up to it. Mischa knew she was playing the drama magnet. She knew she was the amalgamation of what the show was trying to convey ie. there's a mess under all the glamour of Newport. During mag interviews, Mischa seems accepting of all this. For her to do some self reflection over the last two decades must be a lot. I mean, you're told you're the linchpin of the series, you are who's bringing it the most press, and you're also the one acting out drama to the extreme without a second of recompense for your character. Oh and by the way you're fucking fired. Bye. Jesus, it's a lot. Obviously every core four actor wanted to be a movie star. Mischa was doing movies when she could. She was booked, even if it wasn't the shiny roles in bigger movies that shot when The OC did. They signed a five year contract apparently! I do wonder how she was compensated for Fox breaking that, and if there was ever an NDA signed concerning certain things. (I know nothing about that at all, maybe there's no repercussion for a broken contract in the event of a firing.)

In that interview I posted, she said, "It was like high school. I became so accustomed to seeing the same people day in and day out. I didn't want it to end weirdly, and it did, a little bit. It was bittersweet." I feel like this is the only thing I've ever heard about Mischa actually leaving set and her cast mates. Ben said it was "odd" and others have hemmed and hawed. This is mostly irrelevant to your message but I'm so goddamn intrigued by this whole thing.

Re: Tate. What a dick. Like damn dude they were dumbass kids. One was an actual kid. He even said in his last pod ep that he remembered what it was like to be a young actor/star. He's already roasted them once. We get it! That said... I do like tea. I know I know I'm a freakin hypocrite. The gossip in me likes hearing that kind of shit. Especially how you point out that clearly every core four member was over the material by s3. Which is so sad when you see how bright the show's star shined in the beginning. I like the little digs we can infer about how the actors felt about the writing. That's the tea I really want!