#something was really tapped into with this show

[miumura]

WAiTiN’ ON CALLS — S. JAEYUN 𓂃 ⭑

( 엔하이픈 제이크 ) : jake misses you — too much for his own liking. he tries to move on, and by doing so, he gives you one last call. usually it would go directly to voicemail, but instead, he was greeted with you on the other line.

──── ex!jake x gn ! r . . . ⌕ ex 2 lovers, second chance, angst, fluff ∿ 𝔀ord count 2.1K+ ( 2196 ) ╱ HAPPY BF JAKE DAY 🤍 i’ve been dying to write a fic using this pic of jake ever since it got posted … so this is for me and my jake baes 🤍

Jake knew he was beyond exhausted—so tired that all he could manage after work was to head straight for his bed, not even bothering to take off his suit.

But despite the dim lighting and the comfort of sinking into his mattress, sleep refused to come. He tossed and turned, tried counting sheep, but nothing worked. Frustrated, he sat up, turning on the radio to a soft, quiet tune as he stared at his phone.

He already knew what was on his mind.

His gaze settled on his contact list, focusing on one name—yours.

He missed you, more than he cared to admit. His eyes lingered on your icon, a picture he’d secretly taken during one of your dates. You’d demanded he delete it, but he never did. Instead, he kept it as a reminder of you, proudly showing it off whenever he got the chance.

A small, bittersweet smile crept onto his lips as his eyes trailed down to your name, the ache in his chest growing a little heavier.

My Love. He never bothered changing it—that name was reserved for you, and only you. Was it strange for him to keep it that way? He wasn't sure, but what he did know was that no matter what, you’d always be his love, even if he was the only one who still believed it.

Should he call you again?

His finger hovered over your name, hesitating—a rare feeling for him. He’d always called before, whenever he had a free moment. It was supposed to be a one-time thing, just a way to clear his head, but it had become a habit. Strangely enough, he found relief in those calls. They always went straight to voicemail, and he was certain you never listened to them.

That’s where he poured his heart out, leaving messages that no one would hear. It was sad, but in a way, comforting—like shouting into the void, knowing there'd be no echo, no response.

He often wondered why you hadn’t blocked him yet. Maybe, if you did, it would finally force him to move on.

Maybe that would give him the push he needed to let go.

But deep down, he knew it wasn’t that simple. He was the one holding onto the past, the one clinging to old habits. Why did he think calling you, of all things, would help him get over you? Even if someone asked him, he wouldn’t know how to explain it.

Maybe he didn’t really want to.

Maybe, just maybe, he was still hoping for something—anything—from you.

He just wanted to hear your voice again, even though it felt impossible at this point. Pressing his lips together, he finally tapped the call button. Placing the phone on his thigh, Jake ran a hand through his hair, unable to look at the screen as the rings buzzed in the quiet room.

As usual, he fully expected you wouldn’t answer.

Normally, the sting of disappointment would hit him when you let his calls go unanswered, but tonight felt different. Tonight, everything was going to change.

This would be the last time he stared at your contact, the last time he pressed your number, and the last voicemail he'd leave. Tonight, he was finally going to say goodbye.

Tonight—

"Hello?"

His body went still.

For a moment, Jake couldn’t believe it. Your voice, so familiar yet distant, cut through the static of the call. He had rehearsed this moment over and over in his mind, but now that it was real, his words were trapped in his throat.

"Jake?" you repeated, sounding confused, maybe even concerned. "Are you there?"

He swallowed, trying to collect himself. "Hey," he finally managed, his voice barely a whisper. "I... I didn’t expect you to pick up."

There was a brief silence on the other end, making his heart race, before you spoke again. "I didn’t expect to get so many calls... or all the voicemails."

"You... you listened to them?" he asked, barely able to believe it.

“Caught up on all of it yesterday,” you admitted, your voice surprisingly calm. “You really sent a lot, huh?”

Jake’s heart was pounding so loudly that it drowned out his own thoughts. He couldn’t believe this was happening. The plan to say goodbye, the resolution he had built up in his mind, seemed to dissolve the moment he heard your voice.

He didn’t want to mess this up—he couldn’t.

“I still didn’t expect you to actually listen to them,” he said, his voice shakier than he wanted it to be.

“How could I not?” you chuckled softly, attempting to ease the awkward tension. It was strange, both of you knew it. Talking to your ex, someone you swore you’d never contact again, felt surreal.

And yet, here you were—on the phone, waiting for him to say something more.

Jake took a breath, the weight of his next words heavy on his chest. "I was planning on this being the last call,” he confessed. “Since you never really picked up... I figured I was just bothering you."

There was a pause on the other end, and he held his breath, wondering what you’d say next.

"Would it be wrong to say I had a feeling?" you finally replied, voice soft.

"How could you tell?"

"Just... a gut feeling," you said, as if searching for the right words. "Or maybe because… I knew you."

His heart couldn’t help but falter—he knew you were not lying. You did know him, deeply once. But that closeness had slipped away when life had led you down different paths.

"Yeah," was all he could muster, the simplicity of the word masking the storm of emotions within him. He wasn’t sure how to move forward, or if he even wanted to.

“Do you mean every single voice message?” you asked, breaking the silence that had settled between you two. Jake’s eyes widened, caught off guard by the question.

“Of course I do,” he replied, gripping his phone tightly, as if it could somehow bridge the distance between you. His heart was pounding; he needed to make this count. “There isn’t a single thing I’ve sent to you that I’d ever want to take back. Every word was real. It’s exactly how I feel about you... about us.”

For a moment, vulnerability hung between you, both knowing this conversation could change everything. Jake could only hope you’d feel it too, that maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to turn this into something more.

“Come see me then.”

“Huh?” Jake’s breath hitched, unsure if he’d heard you right.

“You’re not going to leave me hanging this time, are you?” you asked with a light chuckle, though your voice held a hint of nervousness. You hoped the laughter would mask how your heart was pounding, racing in anticipation.

Jake barely registered the words before he was scrambling to grab his keys, his phone pressed tightly to his ear. “Not this time,” he stammered, his voice shaking with excitement and a touch of panic. He could feel his pulse hammering as he fumbled with his shoes, trying to keep his hands steady.

The thought of seeing you, of finally closing the distance he’d been feeling for so long, filled him with both anticipation and nervous energy.

"Take your time," you teased, though he could hear the faintest tremor in your voice, as if you were trying to calm yourself, too. But he knew he wouldn’t—couldn’t—wait.

He barely managed to lock his door, nearly tripping as he rushed down the stairs. His mind raced, playing over every word, every message he’d sent, wondering if this was finally his chance to make things right.

As he reached his car, hands fumbling for his keys, he took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus, to drive safely. But his heart wouldn’t slow, each beat pushing him forward with a desperate urgency.

Jake barely remembered the drive over, his mind racing faster than the car itself. As he pulled up in front of your house, he felt a fresh wave of nerves settle over him. He sat there for a second, gripping the steering wheel, trying to steady his breath.

This was it.

With a final deep breath, he stepped out of the car and walked up the path to your door, his heart pounding with every step. He hesitated before raising his hand to knock, his mind swirling with questions.

But before he could overthink it, the door swung open, and there you were, standing there in the soft glow of your porch light. For a split second, neither of you spoke, caught up in the quiet intensity of the moment.

“Hi,” you said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips, though he could see the same nervousness reflected in your eyes. “Still in your work attire?”

Jake looked down, realizing for the first time that he was still in his slightly rumpled shirt and loosened tie, his rushed appearance suddenly feeling a bit ridiculous. He let out a small, embarrassed laugh, reaching up to grab his tie as if he could somehow hide it from you. But when he looked back up, he wore a shy smile, his eyes creasing in that gentle way that had always made your heart skip.

Before he could say anything else, you stepped closer, reaching up to fix his tie, your fingers brushing against the fabric with a delicate touch that sent a shiver down his spine. He swallowed, feeling his pulse quicken. It was such a simple gesture, yet it felt like slipping back into something deeply familiar, a memory that had never truly faded.

“There,” you murmured softly as you adjusted the tie, smoothing out the collar. Your hand lingered for just a second longer, and in that moment, Jake felt everything—the unspoken words, the history, the quiet yearning.

“Thank you,” he managed, his voice a little rough.

"I didn’t realize you wanted to see me that badly… especially after just finishing your shift,” you said with a hint of surprise. “You’ve always loved your job.”

Jake let out a small, wistful laugh, meeting your gaze. “Even after a long shift, that isn’t enough to distract me from you,” he admitted. You both knew how deeply he was dedicated to his work, how it had once been the thing that drew him away from you, consuming his time and energy. Something he loved had taken his real love away from him. But he couldn’t dwell on regrets now, not when this chance was standing right in front of him.

“Every time I get back from work, I have to leave a voicemail,” he confessed quietly, his words hanging between you both.

“Every night?” you asked, startled. You hadn’t realized just how much he’d been reaching out in those messages, hadn’t counted the days it had spanned. “That’s… a lot, Jake.”

He nodded, his gaze steady and sincere. “There hasn’t been a single day I haven’t thought about you, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice raw with honesty.

You looked at him, noticing how he pressed his lips together, a nervous habit he’d never quite outgrown. His hair was neatly parted, and his suit fit him perfectly, accentuating the small changes time had brought to him. Somehow, he looked even better than you remembered—or maybe it was simply because you’d missed him more than you’d realized.

“Jake,” you murmured, almost as if testing his name again, letting it fill the space between you both. “I really missed you too.”

At your words, Jake’s face lit up, his cheeks lifting with a smile he couldn’t contain, no matter how hard he tried to keep his composure. He quickly looked away, clearing his throat, but when he turned back, his grin only grew wider as he saw your own smile mirroring his.

“Then… would you let me stay the night?” he asked softly, his voice hopeful, though almost immediately he seemed to second-guess himself. His smile faltered as he began to backpedal, a nervous laugh escaping. “Or, if that’s too much, we could just sit outside, or… in my car? Just to talk, to catch up—or maybe just to let me finally say all these things I’ve kept hidden.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, finding his nervous rambling unexpectedly endearing. It was hard to remember the last time you’d seen Jake like this—unsure, almost shy. Without another word, you reached out and grabbed his arm, gently tugging him inside.

“You can stay,” you said, a warmth in your voice that eased the lingering tension in the air.

Jake blinked in surprise, his nervous expression melting into something more tender as he stepped inside. The familiar warmth of your home wrapped around him, but it was the simple presence of you that truly eased him. He hadn’t realized how much he'd longed for this—just to be near you again.

As he looked at you, a quiet realization washed over him, clear and undeniable. He wasn’t just here because he needed to be; he was here because he wanted to be.

Wherever you were, that was where he wanted to be too.

‘💬’ ─── may active soph come back after this one 😖!

ENHA PERM TAGLIST (1) — @flwoie @ixomiyu @haruavrse @shinsou-rii @bearseulgs @ilovewonyo @yenqa @dimplewonie @bubblytaetae @wtfhyuck @ineedaherosavemeenow @ml8dy @starikizs @wonioml @chirokookie @xiaoderrrr @neozon3nha @en-chantedtomeetyou @millksea @enhaz1 @eundiarys @hyeosi @ja4hyvn @judeduartewannabe @j-wyoung @thia-aep @vampcharxter @softpia @officiallyjaehyuns @itsactuallylina @hsheart @sweetjaemss @ahnneyong @hanienie @jwnghyuns @kpoplover718 @jiawji @rikizm @haknom @yeokii @wvnkoi @whoschr @teddywonss @shinunoga-iie-wa @isoobie @skzenhalove @misokei @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @miercerise @litttlestars @enhapocketz

[the-palelady]

could you mayhaps perhaps potentially elaborate on simon meeting the love of his life????

this made me giggle

but absolutely

because when i tell you he is down bad…he is down bad bad.

the tickets were soap’s, but he couldn’t possibly go alone. kyle might have been down to attend, but in johnny’s eyes asking simon, a quiet man who you wouldn’t catch dead in a crowded place like this, sounded much more interesting.

of course, simon was reluctant, saying no a million times before he finally gave in. which took some bribing on soap’s end (listen, free beer is free beer).

the show was packed. shoulders touching shoulders, people practically climbing over one another as the stadium’s energy became more intense. but simon had to admit to himself that he was enjoying it, tapping his foot to the beat of the music, a beer in one hand and his free hand shoved into his pants pockets. the colorful lights reflected off his amber eyes until the shine of your own eyes caught his attention.

you were so bright eyed and full of energy. you sang each song, word for word, with the people around you, uncaring of what was going on beyond the walls of the stadium. it was just you and the music. simon almost felt like he was intruding on the peaceful moment you were having (even though ride the lightning is hardly a peaceful song).

it took until almost the end of the show for him to finally work up the courage to speak to you, pushing through the crowd of people as he followed you out to the lobby.

once the concert was over, johnny turned to simon only to find a group of teenagers standing in his place. soap didn’t expect to lose his lieutenant in a place like this. but after almost 30 minutes of searching, he really didn’t expect to find simon leaning against a wall, hands once again nestled into the pockets of his jeans and his hooded head tilted downwards, seemingly looking at something.

“there ya fuckin’ are, lt. been lookin’ for ya fo-”

johnny’s mouth locks itself shut when you come into view, his words not even reaching simon’s ears, too fixated on you.

tiny little thing you are in comparison to simon, monster of a man he is. you have a band shirt on, makeup done although your eyeliner is a bit smudged, and hair jostled about, sticking up in some places. your fingers fiddle with one another, clasped together as you rambled on about something to romeo in front of you.

a sea of people has to step around johnny, his jaw practically touching the floor as he watches simon’s usually disinterested expression stay locked onto you, eating up every word that slips from your mouth. he can see the fireworks going off in simon’s eyes, the subtle nod of his head, urging you to keep speaking. his mouth moves under the black mask that obscures the lower half of his face, but johnny’s not close enough to hear what he’s saying.

even sees his shoulders shake, laughing at something you had said, to which you join in with your own giggles.

after some time, someone shouts, and from the way you perk up, johnny assumes it’s the group you came to the concert with. when you turn back, he utters something before his hand slips out of his pocket, holding his phone out to you.

you take the device with a smile, tapping something in before handing it back and leaving with a big grin spreading across your face, cheeks rosy red and eyes just as sparkly as simon’s.

johnny’s voice doesn’t even break simon from his thoughts when he finally approaches him, still watching you scurry away with your friends.

“thought i was ‘ere to see metallica?! no’ fuckin’ romeo and juliet.”

[keferon]

Well I just finished improvising chapter one of Mecha AU :D

I recommend you read it on BlueSky because the formatting and redacting there is better but you also can read it all here under the cut

Summary:

Jazz huddles in the cockpit, turns on the comm channel, and habitually ignores the static

“This is 1061. I don't know if you guys can hear me, but I have news. I've found other mechs in space! But..”

He taps nervously on the console panel

“I am not sure they're piloted by humans.”

---------

Jazz isn't sure at what exact moment his life turned into anime completely. It was probably when a huge monster appeared in the sky above his home? Yeah...it must have been then.

The big green thing blew up almost half the city before it was destroyed with so much explosives that the government probably had to empty their pockets to scrape together that much.

In the future, of course, they had to repeat the feat.

And then again.

And again.

Either the government of these monsters had a lot of extra money, or the monsters were free volunteers.

Jazz tried to watch from a distance. Ideally from a place where it would be hard to yank him out. Even with a stick. Even for a massive space monster.

%%%%

If you think about it. This wasn't anime yet. It was more in apocalypse film territory.

The anime started when a smiling man in a surprisingly expensive suit came to Jazz and offered to take a few tests to see if Jazz was suitable for some sort of special earth protection program of his. The pay was suspiciously good, and the list of medical forms was suspiciously long. But last week, a huge shark-like thing had trampled Jazz's last workplace and well...there wasn't much else for him to go to.

The man smiled and looked like a toothpaste advertisement as he shook his hand.

Yeah, the anime definitely started with that.

-----

It's actually amazing how a shitty thing like alien monsters and giant robots can become habitual. Maybe even beloved. Not monsters, of course. No.

But robots? Definitely.

Jazz is one hell of a pilot. One of the best, as his superiors like to say. They don't really have a way to test who's the greatest pilot in the world because the life span of the average pilot isn't usually very long. Jazz doesn't mind. He knows he's good, but he doesn't want to think about how good. Other pilots like to compete for the top of the charts. Numbers, kills, promotions and everything else that goes with it.

Jazz is mostly just vibing.

His early tests don't show very high or impressive potential for compatibility with combat mech technology, but once he's out of the simulator and into the real thing....

Jazz can't explain it. He just feels it. He just stops seeing the dashboard in front of him, stops thinking about how comfortable the pilot's seat is or how to hold the controls.

Jazz gets in the cockpit and stops being human.

Jazz gets in the cockpit and turns into metal and machinery. Rockets and joints. Hydraulics and thousands of sensors.

His hands become huge, able to crush a car. His legs gain new articulations. His body moves in ways completely impossible for a human and it feels so familiar, as if he's always been like this.

It feels like him. Like home.

Jazz isn't interested in promotions because important people aren't allowed to operate mechs. Not allowed to be mechs.

Jazz wants to be a mech.

He's just not ready to trade that feeling for anything else.

————

War gets crazier as time goes on.

Every time Jazz thinks it's going to end now, someone steps on Chekhov's gun in the ceiling.

The aliens aren't going to die out or leave.

Humans refuse to go extinct.

It's a tug-of-war that inevitably leads both sides to think that if they can't win with the ‘pull harder’ method, they should try something new. Something creative.

That’s how Jazz finds himself in the middle of developing a mech capable of travelling through space.

Because whoever is making the decisions up there has decided it's time to get more aggressive and start fighting on more than just their own territory.

The aliens have so far been too comfortable taking advantage of the fact that space is inaccessible to humans. They've always had places to retreat to. Places to hide to lick their wounds. Jazz thinks it makes sense. Sort of. If there's anything left in this world that respects logic.

The development department takes some time and an absolutely obscene amount of money to figure out how to launch a giant robot into space without the human inside it turning to paste.

They show an incredible ability to organize space and play a game of tetris where instead of blocks there are vital systems like air storage and provisions falling from the ceiling.

Jazz, as someone who has been forced to participate in hundreds of their tests and observe their tenacity, is genuinely proud of them.

His pride even overcomes the fact that they have been close to turning him into a paste more times than he is comfortable counting.

They stick him in hundreds of variations of different armor and plating and make him perform the same boring motions a million times to “make sure there's no risk of depressurization”.

Sometimes he's shoved to the bottom of a swimming pool and asked to perform mission simulations without coming out of the water. This is the only part of development that Jazz actually genuinely loves. Swimming is fun when you're metal and don't have to breathe.

%%%%%%%

At the end of the tests, Jazz is left with a hundred or so system upgrades, increased weight by almost half, nice new armor, and added height. His legs now have another joint in them. Some of the pilots complain that it hurts them to even look at Jazz's freakishly bendy legs, but their opinion fades under the weight of delight.

Jazz loves the new joints. New joints mean he can navigate even wackier surfaces now.

For the first official space mission, the superiors choose him without much hesitation.

Space is unfamiliar territory. And no matter how hard you try, you can't fully recreate its conditions without being there. This means that no amount of training and simulations can fully prepare pilots for what will be waiting for them there. They're going to have to adjust. Improvise. Find ways and solutions on the spot.

Jazz is good at that. Exceptionally and impressively good. He also has enough thirst for adventures in him to go along with the idea.

But most importantly, he's undeniably the best when it comes to controlling a battle mech. His ability to “ I don’t know I’m just vibing you know” is envy-inducing and wary at the same time. Mechs are huge and heavy, and in the hands of someone who doesn't fully know what to do, they're pretty damn clumsy.

Jazz is one of the few who can control a battle mech as naturally as his own human body.

In theory that means if he's thrown into a zero-gravity environment, he can handle it just fine. No worse than if he could do it without the mech. Or at least not fail dramatically enough to embarrass the entire engineering department.

Jazz promises to do his best, shakes all the hands necessary for pretty pictures, and uploads a file with simple instructions.

This mission shouldn't be anything too bizarre except for its location. He is warned that a lot can go wrong, but then immediately assured that a whole crowd of experts will be waiting and watching and will respond at his first call.

Jazz politely thanks them and does a few simple movements to make sure all the joints in his legs are working properly.

His boss smiles like he's advertizing toothpaste and promises him a nice big raise if he'll continue to work on space missions.

Jazz somehow manages to forget that this is where anime usually begins.

________________

Things are going very wrong very fast. Most unfairly, for a completely unexplainable reason.

Jazz is quite successful at getting around in space. The lack of gravity is incredibly uncomfortable at first, but he adapts. It takes time to understand the movement, but nothing beyond the plan.

At one point he even has fun. He spots a satellite orbiting the Earth and waves cheerfully at it, hoping it is recording.

He confidently completes the exploration and is about to turn back when something huge and possessing an uncomfortable number of limbs materializes in front of him literally out of nowhere.

He is surprised and a little disgusted, but the monster's appearance wasn't entirely unforeseen. His instructions are simple. Anything larger than an elephant and not a human being must become dead.

A fight with a strange space thing is no problem. The problem is that the thing is losing very quickly and is clearly panicking about it. Jazz is just about to rip another leg off of it when an unidentifiable bright green light flashes around them and suddenly the whole world starts to feel bloody wrong. Space feels like it's stretching and shrinking at the same time. Jazz can't tell if he's feeling the pressure or if he's being torn apart.

He's screaming. Not from pain, but from surprise.

And finds himself standing in the middle of a crowd of similar monsters.

The one he was just about to kill makes some gurgling, panicked noises. The other monsters freeze, either surprised or frightened, it's impossible to tell.

Jazz manages to notice that he's inside some kind of room. His brain finds no suitable alternative for a quick description. He has never been in such strange places before

He doesn't even have time to take a step when there's a muffled click from behind and he's blinded by the green light again.

He doesn't know what to expect when he opens his eyes.

The first time, the strange green light dragged him through every possible sensation in just a couple of seconds, and that was enough to scare the hell out of him.

The second time, it feels like it lasts forever. He tries to look at his watch, but his eyes refuse to work properly. Which ones of his eyes? He doesn't know. One overlaps with the other. He feels terribly tiny but at the same time it's like his body is everywhere at once. Somewhere in the far corner of his brain, flickers the thought that mixing experimental technology with obscure alien magic is a spectacularly bad idea. The amount of things that could go wrong wouldn't fit in any insurance policy, even if they were writing small text under a microscope. Who ‘they’ are, he's not imagining. His boss and his advertising teeth probably.

Jazz clenches his fists, closes his eyes, and tries his hardest to at least just not pass out. The Engineering Department will owe him so much pool time for all of this.

That's assuming he survives long enough to see the engineering department again.

He tries to focus on the simple things.

Everything around him feels like ‘WRONG’.

He can't breathe.

Maybe the urge to stay awake has been overrated.

He's falling.

*********

When he wakes up, the first thing he notices is cold hands on his head.

Someone is gently turning it, probably to examine him.

There are voices above him. He doesn't recognize them and can't distinguish what they're saying.

The palms of the hands are hard. They feel like they're made of metal.

He hears more voices.

For a scary second he worries his brain is broken, but the more he listens the more he realizes it's just another language.

A completely...unfamiliar language. Unlike anything he's ever heard before.

Hands move away and he chooses that moment to open his eyes.

Long time ago, he used to go to all sorts of movie and art fan festivals. There were always a lot of cosplayers trying to outdo each other in the art of character creation.

The picture that meets him is actually a surprisingly strong reminder of those times.

The people crowded around him are extremely colorful. Also quite small compared to his metallic body.

The strange thin lilac creature is saying something. It sounds questioning.

The other lilac creature shakes its head negatively and judging by its intonation redirects the question to someone else.

Jazz tries to figure out if the green light could have made him see things. Because it's unlikely the afterlife looks like this.

Someone very furry peeks out from behind the backs of the lilac creatures and authoritatively pulls out a thing that looks like a regular tablet. They poke at it for a couple seconds and then show everyone in the crowd a picture of some kind of robot simultaneously pointing at Jazz.

The crowd disagrees.

One of them says something poking Jazz with his hand. He wonders idly if it's the same hand. No, it's the wrong size.

The picture changes to a different one.

The effect is the same.

Another round of poking and prodding later, Jazz's fried brain gets it.

They're trying to figure out what he is.

Little colorful things. Probably never seen a robot like this before?

He doesn't have time to process the thought properly when the floor he's lying on starts to shake violently.

The creatures shriek in frustration and Jazz, who until then had been sure he was in some kind of building, suddenly realizes that. Oh, shit. No. The surface is moving.

Is he being taken somewhere???

Jazz looks around in confusion, trying to figure out who it belongs to.

He makes an attempt to jump to his feet and all the creatures crowding around him all start screaming at the same time. He doesn't understand it, but it sounds hysterical, angry and so damn unpleasant to his poor head. Someone shrieks and from somewhere to his left there are sharp clicks and the floor shakes and Jazz wants to go back to the bottom of the pool where it's dark and quiet and

Someone picks him up under his elbows from behind. Not exerting much pressure or holding him down. Just offering support.

A new voice comes from the back of the room. Louder and much lower than all the previous ones and, notably...not from the floor.

And meets the gaze of another giant robot.

__________________________

Side note: to those of you who went to hang out with me while I was writing. Thank you hejdhfngn I appreciate the company❤️

Oh by the way I’m in the process of writing the Mecha pilot au right now you can read if you want :D

[stxrslut]

HUMILIATED 𖤍

summary; when rafe gets with you as a barrier to stand between the tension that stands in stone between him and his drug dealer, but the moment barry realises what he's doing, he takes it to his utmost advantage and uses you to prove to rafe that he will never be anything other than pathetic to him  

content; rafebarry x reader, dubcon, ass eating, use of weed, “bitch” is used in a derogatory way towards reader

rafe cameron is a pathetic man. there’s no doubt about it, anyone who’s ever met him has found it out in some way or another. you’d been told this when he started going after you, and to your dismay, you’d ignored it. you’d had no idea that rafe had alternate motivations when he began pursuing you, but you were ever so wrong. 

maybe one month ago, more or less, there had been a rather monumental night. rafe and barry, up late, smoking, had fucked. it was quick and rushed and sweaty and gross. and then rafe had run for the hills, never to acknowledge the night again, or so he thought. 

overcome by a mountain of emotions and complicated thought processes, he’d done everything possible to distract himself, starting with a few hookups, and then a relationship with you. 

you do the job well enough for him, but even so the dealer is always somewhere in his mind. you notice sometimes when you’re having sex that he just disassociates, but you’re not sure what he’s thinking of, maybe that’s just how he is in bed. 

whilst you’re not aware of all of the backstory behind them, you know something is up with rafe and barry. when you tag along with rafe on his weekly visits the tension between them is tangible. barry always remains stony faced,rafe always looks similar to a prey animal, scared, skittish, ready to run or play a defence. you quickly become aware that you are his defence. 

rafe takes you there to try and intimidate him. to try and show him, to send a message that says “I don’t need you.” 

tonight is one of those nights. you are sat cross legged on one of the two couches on barry’s front porch. you feel rather uncomfortable. 

the two men are smoking weed, each of them have their own joint, because apparently sharing doesn’t happen anymore. rafe occasionally offers you a drag, which you occasionally take, but you think if you got high, the tension in the air would make you puke. it might make you puke anyway. 

nobody has said anything for over five minutes. you decide to crawl into rafe’s lap, for some comfort, retreat, maybe just to make him break this deafening silence. 

rafe lets you take a place straddling his lap, you wriggle down there to get comfortable before you rest your head on his chest. to your absolute disappointment, the silence continues. 

another ten minutes, maybe fifteen, you can’t keep count. you hear the moving of cushions from behind you, barry must be changing the position that he’s sitting in. 

looking up, you see rafe’s jaw ticking in supposed frustration. you can tell that the thoughts are rushing around behind his eyes before his gaze hardens and he looks back down to you. 

without speaking, his hand cups the back of your head and he pulls you up to lock lips with him. the kiss is sudden and a little too intense for the context, being that his drug dealer is watching it happen. 

there’s really not a way for you to protest and this does help occupy the quiet and awkward just a little bit so you don’t. along with you not protesting, it escalates just a little bit. a lot actually, within minutes you’re humping on his bulge. 

your mouth no longer on his lips and now on his neck, you can see his face just a little bit. he’s staring right at barry, not looking away, not blinking. his only acknowledgement of you is the hand on your lower back, guiding your movements just a little bit. 

you think maybe you should just stop, walk home without him and escape this turmoil of looks and telepathic communications you can’t tap in on. but something else happens before you can act on it. 

you don’t see it coming, so it takes you by surprise when barry’s firm pair of hands pull you back to stand up against him. 

“fuckin’ done with this.” he grumbles, but he’s not speaking to you, he’s speaking to rafe, who’s face you can now see is bright red, eyes wide and lips parted. “you think you’re such a tough guy huh? nah. we’re not doin’ this no more. you wanna fuckin’ show off your girl like that makes you better. huh?” 

he yells, pushing you aside but blocking you in, as he goes down to rafe’s level. you watch in shock as he leans forward and grabs rafe by the collar. then he pushes him down to lay on his stomach on the couch, making his cheek smush up against a pillow that probably smells of mould. 

once rafe’s pants are pulled down and his ass is revealed to the cold evening air, barry grabs you once more, forming a ponytail in your hair to keep a firm hold of you. 

his mouth comes up close to your ear, “you think your man’s tough huh? nah. gonna show you what a fuckin’ pathetic little son of a bitch he is.” the dealer's words are driven by an anger that you are not sure the origin of. 

you have to avoid yelping when suddenly you’re pushed to your knees and your face is inches away from his ass. you can guess now what you’re about to do. 

hand still on your head, barry levels his face with rafe now, “feel like a big guy now rafe? do you feel good?” 

and then your face is shoved down. your mouth immediately comes into contact with his asshole. by default, you begin to move a little, parting your lips and tonguing at it. barry chuckles, “this girl knows what to do, doesn't she? you got her trained rafe? you like having your ass ate?” 

rafe whimpers. he feels humiliated, this is not the reason he ever dated you. he dated you for confidence in himself, not whatever the fuck this is. 

unfortunately, for him that is, pleasure is there too, and he can’t resist reacting to it. his ass shifts upwards to accommodate the boner that was pressing into the couch uncomfortably. 

the sounds he’s making are oh so pathetic, whimpers and whines and little begs to barry to stop this. he doesn’t stop though. 

even when you come up for a breath of air you’re swiftly pushed right back down by his firm hand, “keep goin’ bitch. I didn’t tell you to stop.” 

after chastising you, barry turns to rafe with a clear sense of what he’s about to do. “look at you. fuckin’ pathetic. never gonna be the big man you think you are rafe cameron.” 

it takes just a few more seconds and then rafe cries out embarrassingly loud. “mmh- fuck. get her off o’me.. stop it.” tears are falling down his cheeks while he feels nothing but humiliation at what he’s doing. 

barry does pull you away, pushing you aside, but only after he’s sure that rafe has endured every last second of his orgasm. 

you move up to sit on the floor two feet away, eyes fixated on the two. rafe is breathless, body limp on the couch, cheeks red and tearstained. his eyes bore into barry’s, it’s like they’re speaking in their heads again. whatever the fuck has happened between these two, you just hope to god you don’t have to stay a part of it.

[dee-writes-anime]

do you have any headcanons with soft yandere hawks?

Obsessed? No, Baby, this is Love

FEATURING Keigo 'Hawks' Takami i x Reader

SUMMARY He's not crazy and he means well, that's all! OR yandere hawks headcannons

CONTENT WARNINGS Hawks being overprotective, stalker tendencies, obsessions, and stuff like that!

AUTHORS NOTE I love making headcannons! They're pretty stress free and it's nice to take a break once and a while from plotting and writing and instead just being able to yap. Thanks for the request anon! <3

Constantly checking in

Hawks texts you more than a grandma on Facebook. It starts with a simple “Hey, how’s your day going?” but quickly spirals into 57 messages asking if you’re eating, sleeping, and possibly getting your required dose of love for the day. “I know you're fine, but just wanted to check—are you still breathing? Have you drank enough water, or should I remind you again?” You almost feel like you’re his pet, except, you know, way cuter.

He’ll “protect” you (a.k.a. hover over you)

His wings? They’re not just for flying, no. They’re like a personal shield that always shows up at the worst possible moments. You’ll be minding your business, and suddenly, there’s Hawks, hovering two inches behind you like a warm, feathery cloud. “Just here to keep an eye on you,” he says. And you’re like, Can I breathe though?

Who doesn't love surpise gifts?! (that double as surveillance devices)

Hawks loves to surprise you with thoughtful little trinkets, but they always come with just a touch of paranoia. “I saw this keychain and thought it’d be cute for you!” Sure, it’s cute… until you notice the tiny GPS tracker hidden inside it. “It’s for your safety,” he says with a wink. Right, Hawks. We all know it’s just in case someone tries to get too close to you. How sweet… and creepy.

Oh! Funny running into you here! :D

You think you’ve got your life together, doing errands, living your best independent life, but oh wait—here’s Hawks, just happening to be at the same café as you. “What a coincidence! I was just nearby!” Uh-huh, right. And I’m just shocked you also happened to bring coffee for both of us. It’s fine, though—he’s just making sure you’re not plotting to run off into the sunset with someone who doesn’t know your coffee order by heart.

He hides his jealousy so well! (can you hear his eye twitching?)

You ever see someone try to hide a full-on mental breakdown with a forced smile? Yeah, that’s Hawks when anyone looks at you for more than a second. Someone says “hi” to you at the grocery store? Expect a dramatic, almost cinematic shift in his vibe. His wing stiffens, the smile freezes, and you can practically hear the internal scream. “Oh, hey, did you want to buy something from their cart? I’m sure they don’t mind…” Sure, Hawks. Totally not possessive.

He's so sweet!... why is it almost scary?

At first, you think it’s sweet when Hawks remembers that you prefer a certain type of tea. Then you realize he’s tracking everything. “Remember when you said you liked that red dress from last summer? I got you a matching scarf!” And you're just standing there like, “Thanks? Are you trying to get me to fall in love with you or just lock me down forever?” His answer? “Both. But mostly the first one.”

Overprotective in the most (un)subtle way!

If you ever think you're going out for a “normal” night, you’re so wrong. “You don’t have to go out tonight, do you? It’s really cold out, and I’d hate for you to catch a cold.” Translation: “I’d prefer if you just stayed here and let me watch over you like a hawk (pun intended).” You try to resist, but then he hits you with the puppy eyes, and suddenly, you’re canceling plans to stay in and binge-watch Netflix with him… because clearly, you’re too important to be out in the world without him.

He's obsessed in love with the little things!

Hawks is obsessed with every single part of you, even the things you don’t notice. He’ll bring up the exact way you tap your foot when you’re anxious or how you always hum that one song when you’re about to do something important. “I thought you’d like these earrings because you always wear that shade of blue.” He’s scarily good at remembering everything. And you’d be a little worried if you weren’t so flattered by the fact that this man can’t get enough of you.

Bottom line? Hawks is like the perfect mix of sweet and “don’t you dare leave me alone for more than five minutes” obsession. But hey, at least you don’t have to worry about losing your keys, right? Because he’s got a tracker on everything—including your heart.

TAGLIST

@surielstea

[yourbiggestcrybaby]

Pure

Mattheo Riddle x Fem!Halfblood!Reader

Warnings: Mattheo is a jerk, insults towards half-bloods, idk

Mattheo and you have always been enemies. Mattheo insults you perhaps to try to distract himself from his undeniable feelings for you, you insult him back, thats part of you routine. One night, in the common room, Mattheo goes too far and you cry. He feels guilty and tries to fix it, but you have had enough.

The Slytherin common room was dim, the flickering green fire casting shadows over the stone walls as you tried to focus on your notes. It was late, and you were hoping to get a few minutes of quiet studying, but the familiar sound of footsteps approaching made you tense up. Without even turning, you knew who it was.

Mattheo Riddle strode in, his left foot repetitively tapping the floor as he lingered just close enough for you to feel the weight of his gaze. He watched you for a moment, his face unreadable, his stance unusually calm. Normally, he was quick to throw in a smug remark, but tonight he just stood there, looking at you with an intensity you couldn’t quite place.

“Still studying?” he asked, his voice softer than usual. You almost missed the gentleness there, but it was quickly overrun by a familiar sneer as he added, “Thought you’d be used to all this by now.”

You glanced up, surprised to see him looking at you with something close to curiosity. “Some of us actually care about our studies,” you said, keeping your tone neutral, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves his stare was stirring up.

“Oh, I know you do,” he said, an almost mocking note creeping into his voice. “Trying to prove you’re as good as the rest of us, aren’t you?”

The words hit a nerve, but you ignored it, burying yourself back in your notes. This was how it always was with Mattheo—him throwing barbs, you dodging them, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

He moved closer, leaning over your shoulder, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “You can study as much as you like, but you know you’ll never be more than what you are. You’re never going to be one of us.”

You stiffened, feeling the familiar ache that his words always seemed to stir up, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you forced yourself to stay calm, to keep your voice steady. “And what exactly do you mean by that, Mattheo?”

His smirk widened, and there was a flicker of cruelty in his eyes. “Come on, don’t make me spell it out,” he sneered. “You can wear the Slytherin crest, you can memorize all the spells you want, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re not pure. That’s something you can’t study your way out of.”

His words hurt, they were calculated to wound, and for a moment, you felt the sting of tears in your eyes. But you forced them down, refusing to give him the satisfaction. This was Mattheo’s favorite way to get to you—digging at the one thing he knew would make you feel like an outsider. But tonight, the anger in his words seemed more intense, his gaze harsher, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d come here tonight with every intention of making you feel as low as possible.

You took a steadying breath, meeting his gaze with as much strength as you could muster. “I didn’t realize blood status was so important to you, Mattheo. Didn’t think the Dark Lord’s son would be so old-fashioned.”

A flash of anger crossed his face, and his smirk faltered. But he recovered quickly, stepping back and crossing his arms, his expression hardening. “It’s not about being old-fashioned. It’s about knowing your place,” he said coldly. “I don’t know why you’re so desperate to prove you belong here when you’ll never be a real Slytherin.”

Your chest tightened, his words sinking in deeper than you wanted to admit. You looked away, trying to keep your expression calm, but his voice just kept cutting through the air, each word sharper than the last.

“It’s pathetic, really,” he went on, his tone dripping with disdain. “Watching you pretend like any of this matters, like you’re somehow the exception. But the truth is, you can’t change what you are.”

“Why do you even care?” you shot back, unable to hold the question in any longer. “Why are you so determined to tear me down every chance you get?”

He opened his mouth, a flicker of something softer crossing his face, but it was gone in an instant, replaced with that same cold, calculating look. “I don’t care,” he said flatly, though his tone wavered for a second. “I just think it’s pathetic, the way you try so hard to be one of us.”

The words sank in, every syllable feeling like another twist of the knife. You could feel the heat of tears in your eyes, and you quickly blinked them away, refusing to let him see how much his words had cut. But he saw something in your expression—some tiny flicker of pain—and for just a moment, his own face softened, like he was almost… regretful.

He shifted awkwardly, glancing down and rubbing the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “Look, I didn’t mean it like that,” he muttered, his voice low, almost unsure. “I just—”

“Yes, you did,” you interrupted, your voice trembling despite yourself. “You meant every word. You always do.”

He looked at you, his face falling, the usual arrogance nowhere to be seen. For a second, it almost looked like he wanted to take it all back, but he seemed lost, unable to find the words.

“I just…” he started, but you cut him off.

“I don’t care, Mattheo,” you said, swallowing hard to keep your voice steady. “I don’t care what you meant, or why you feel the need to make me feel like this. Just leave me alone.”

You watched as the regret in his eyes deepened, his expression twisting with something almost like pain. He looked away, his shoulders slumping as though he was trying to hide the guilt etched across his face. He hesitated, lingering for a moment, like he wanted to apologize but couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

“Fine,” he muttered finally, his voice barely audible. “If that’s what you want.”

There was no arrogance in his tone, no sneer in his expression. Just a hollow, defeated look as he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing through the empty common room. But just before he reached the door, he stopped and glanced back at you, his eyes shadowed with something raw and unspoken, as if he was silently begging for another chance.

But you stayed silent, your eyes cold as you watched him go, refusing to give him even the slightest hint of forgiveness.

And as the door closed behind him, you let out a shaky breath, the weight of his words settling heavy in your chest. He was gone, but the ache of his insults lingered, echoing through the empty room.

[meirimerens]

You probably have already made a post about this (in which case I apologize for bothering you) however I really love how you render and color! Do you have any tips?

Hiiii so I probably indeed already answered something like that but it’s probably time for an #update + realized i can put pictures and it would probably help actually. Slay okay.

THE BASICS: have brushes you like. I have my faves, they’re in my #brushes tag (click below), you might also see them on the screen of my paintings in wip lol. Typically i thicken them up for rendering AND, now this is integral to my liking of rendering these days + the look: COLOR JITTERING. In procreate that’s tap brush -> color dynamics and i adjust the stamp & stroke jitter in the « hue » category. I have my fave brushes quadruplicated as thicker No Hue, 3% color jitter, 5%, 13% depending on the desired look. What this does is give intrinsic interest, variation and depth to your colors, and that way you can have more fun when colorpicking. This will come back again later.

STEP 1: a lineart you like. Doesn’t have to be clean tbh some of my fave linearts from current works were quite messy. ALWAYS colored.

STEP 2: on a layer underneath the lineart, put down flat colors. See what % of color jittering brings you the most #joy. I will do flat colors or i will sometimes already define some areas of light and shadows.

^ you can see the subtle color jitter in the « white » of the shirt and the green of that first image. Second is to show the already defined areas; if i know i want a different hue on here. something else for some pizzazz: tint a color with an adjacent one. not really visible in these screenshots but in matador, at some point, i added an orange tint to burakh's sleeve, the one closest to the red cape.

STEP 3: the shadows. On the same layer as above (you can duplicate it before this so you can always come back to it later if you need to redo), put down your shadows; the trick: COLORPICK FROM A PIXEL WHERE THE COLOR OF YOUR LINEART AND THE COLOR OF YOUR FLATS INTERSECT. You might have to recolor your lineart (use the « alpha lock » feature of your layer or something of the sorts) until you’re satisfied; i typically redden it in the face and hands.

STEP 4: put down the highlight. I typically do highlights the complimentary color as the shadow: if shadow bluer, the highlight is redder (-> pinker), etc.

STEP 5: now this is the scary part. Before proceeding if you’re #scared, group your lineart and colors, duplicate the group and merge one of them so you can always come back to them unmerged. MERGE YOUR LAYERS. You heard me. Merge lineart and color. From then on…

STEP 6: render. Render, render… PATIENCE… est mère de sûreté bien sûr. Here’s my secret: I NEVER BLEND. I ALWAYS COLORPICK. COLORPICK where two colors meet and you’ll have the perfect transition color.

tip: always have an all-black layer set to color mode above all layers that you can toggle on and off to check your values.

This is more of a fun thing i like to do even if i haven’t done it often: use some hints of a geometric brush to add interest when using an « organic » brush (or vice-versa, I’d guess, but i rarely render with geometric brushes). Exemples again:

And well Das Preddy Much It… Your Turn Now….. and because i realize a short demonstration is better than a long speech, have a speepvideo of the two pieces I’ve used as exemples one after the other (matador first to 44 seconds in, moschophoros second). the very beginnings are cut because we’re focusing on the above steps.

Your turn……. To play.

[levis-poison-is-my-medicine]

Cat-Levi

(The Tea Lovers Pt. 6)

A Levi x reader fanfic

Crossposted from AO3

A/n: New chapter alert!

tags: fluff and humor, silly and sweet, tea-obsessed fem!reader with their head in the clouds (word count: 2.2k)

(Part one) / (Levi x reader Masterlist)

The office door fell shut with a clang. Levi tossed the envelope onto the desk, then turned around to face you. You expected him to scold you, but he said nothing. He just stood there and stared at you, one foot tapping the floor in an irritated manner, like he was waiting for something. The silence was hard for you to bear.

"So I take it the drawings are not to your liking, then?" you asked tentatively.

"Now what gave you that impression?" he deadpanned.

"Maybe the way you immediately ordered me into your office after seeing them? Though I guess it could also be to express admiration for my outstanding artistry in private…"

"Certainly not," he huffed. He was scowling again.

"Didn't think so," you murmured. So much for lightening the mood. He really was angry, after all. Maybe you should work on defending yourself.

"You asked to see them, I gave them to you. I did exactly as you told me. So what's the problem, exactly? I can't read your mind."

"Tch," he made. "Guess I need to spell it out for you."

"That would be nice," you said. Though you could already imagine what it was.

"The problem is…this." He pulled out the topmost drawing from the envelope and pushed it in your direction without looking at it. "Why am I like that?"

You gave it a quick glance. He was leaning against the wall, one hand up in his hair, making his bared chest muscles stretch. You had put a lot of attention to detail in there, so you were quite proud of it.

"Shirtless, you mean?"

He nodded, his jaw tense.

"It's a very popular theme with the ladies. I already told you these were all commissions. They want to see what you look like underneath your uniform."

He scoffed. "That's none of their business. Besides, how would you know? You've never even seen me shirtless."

"You are right, I haven't, so there might be some inaccuracies. I'm usually really meticulous, so this has been bothering me for a while, if you must know. I think I got the muscles about right, in fact I really put my heart into those abs...but you probably have some scars that I don't know about, right? Why don't you show me?"

You looked at him expectantly, your curiosity getting the better of you.

"What?!" he asked, dumbfounded. He even forgot to scowl for a moment. "Please? Just a quick peek?"

"No."

"I just want to know if I got it right," you pouted. "At least tell me."

"No."

"Then don't complain if the drawings aren't perfect next time."

His eyes narrowed. "There won't be a next time."

"Right," you mumbled. "I know."

"You apparently don't."

"These really were just drawings I had left from before. What was I supposed to do with them? Burn them?"

"Yes," Levi said.

"Do they really make you that uncomfortable?" you asked.

"They do."

"Okay," you said. "I'll burn them. They make you uncomfortable, so I'll burn them all. Satisfied?"

Levi didn't say anything. He just glared at you, arms crossed over his chest. You could tell he was still mad.

"I am sorry," you said softly.

He nodded. "When you're done burning those drawings, clean the stables. Be thorough. I'll check."

"What? That's gonna take so long!"

"This is nonnegotiable."

"But–"

"You're not happy with your punishment?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

You nodded furiously. "I don't think it's fair." "Fine. After the stables, you will now also do the women's barracks. Not just your room, but all of them."

Your eyes grew big. "You can't even check those," you muttered defiantly.

"I'll ask someone to do it for me. You're lucky, they probably won't have the same standards."

"This is impossible to do in a day," you pouted. "Not that I'm not happy with the punishment. 'Cause I am," you added quickly. You didn't want him to come up with more.

"You have all week," Levi said. He almost sounded amused. His face was back to his usual cool expression.

"Deal." You took the envelope with the drawings from the table, then hesitated, biting your lip. "Levi?"

"Yeah?"

"We'll still have teatime later, right?"

"Of course. Don't be an idiot."

You breathed a sigh of relief.

– –

"Of course he would need to have black, shiny fur", you giggled to yourself as you sat hunched over a piece of paper in a quiet corner of Hange's lab, adding some sparkles to show just how clean it was.

Instead of watching over a very slow, probably very important experiment, like you were supposed to, you were completely absorbed in perfecting your current drawing, which depicted a somewhat irritated-looking cat. Naturally, it wasn't just any cat. You were trying to capture the very essence of Levi Ackerman, distilling it into the shape of the animal on the paper in front of you.

This was your latest plan to get around his order which banned you from making or selling drawings of him. You had to be extra careful after he had chewed you out last time. You'd never seen him so mad. Well, it certainly hadn't helped when you asked him to take off his shirt. He had you scrubbing floors for all of last week. You were finally done with it, and you certainly had no desire to repeat that anytime soon. But you still found it impossible not to wonder whether your portrayal of him had been accurate. (Maybe he'd show you when he wasn't so mad.)

"Don't look at me like that", you mumbled to Cat-Levi, suddenly feeling a little guilty under his reproachful gaze.

"Don't you know I'm doing this all for you?"

If you wanted to be able to afford Levi's birthday present, you had no choice but to resort to methods like these. Surely he would understand. Better yet, he would never find out in the first place.

You nodded at the picture, satisfied. It was still in its draft stage, but it was getting there. In fact, it was kind of cute, and the longer you looked at it, the cuter it became.

"You're so precious," you gushed. "I wish you were real." Your face broke into a massive grin as you imagined what Cat-Levi would actually be like.

Chortling, you started to scribble a list of traits underneath it.

Smol

You don't choose him. He chooses you.

Perpetually grumpy (secretly a big softie but likes to keep the people around him on their toes)

Hits you with his cute little paws when you disturb him while he's sleeping

Hits you when you try to pet him without his permission

If he wants pets, he approaches you first. Then you have to give him attention. If you don't - you guessed it - he'll pout and hit you (with a cute little paw of course)

Is not afraid to draw blood (but with his special chosen person, he hits them paw only without any claws)

Others when they disturb them? They get it bad.

Did I already mention his cute little paws?

Cleanly as fuck. Don't disturb him while he's grooming himself. He will be your enemy.

Has trouble sleeping but when his chosen person is there with him he can relax

Hates being picked up. It makes him feel smol. Never make him feel smol.

Looves head scritches

Loves gourmet cat food. He's a luxury babe. (But if it comes from his favorite person, he will accept anything they feed him.)

You were so immersed in your writing that you didn't even notice Levi leaning in the doorway.

He watched you as you sat in front of the bubbling flasks, bent over your notes, your face hidden behind a curtain of your hair. Your pen was scratching furiously over the paper, exuding an air of productivity and concentration. He was almost impressed.

Then you giggled.

All of his illusions were shattered in an instant. Clearly, you were doing anything but working.

He approached you with a scowl on his face, already suspecting the worst.

"Are you drawing me again?"

You looked up, startled at the sudden presence, but your wide grin remained in place.

"Nooo! It's just a cat. Not everything's about you, you know."

You ostentatiously pushed the drawing over to him, trying to show him that you had nothing to hide. "See?"

Levi peered down at the cat which sat there with a wrinkled nose, its irritated gaze mirroring his own.

"Tch."

Your smile grew even wider. "Buut, now that you're here…lend me a hand, will you? I need help coming up with a name for this cat! What would you name him?"

You held out the drawing to him. He didn't take it. "Shouldn't you be working?" He motioned to the experiment set up in front of you.

"Ah, that," you said, like you had only just remembered it. "Nothing's been happening for the past three hours. I think it's a bust." You extended your hand even further, waggling the sheet of paper right under his nose.

"Come on, it will only take a second. Then I will get back to watching this thing like a hawk, I promise!"

Levi begrudgingly accepted the drawing and read the notes with raised eyebrows. "Who would even like this cat?"

You gasped, clutching at your chest in horror. "Excuse me? I do! Everyone does. He's precious, okay? You wouldn't know true cuteness even if it hit you in the face."

"I think I would," he said, giving you a glance.

"Obviously not. He's like, the definition of cute." You were pouting. "So, did you come up with a name?"

"Hellspawn," he said dryly.

"Noo, that's so mean! That's not even a real name."

"Fine." Levi sighed. He was quiet for a while, thinking. You looked at him expectantly.

"Herbert," he said finally, his tone serious.

You burst out laughing.

"What?" He frowned. "You wanted a real name. I gave you one."

"No, no, it's great, really. You're absolutely right," you tried to appease him.

"Herbert it is then."

Of course, this was just his undercover name. He would always be a Levi to you.

You took the paper from him and added a bowl, lovingly writing 'Herbert' on it in cursive letters.

When you were done, Levi was still standing there with his arms crossed.

You shot him a questioning look. "So, why did you come here? Did you want something?"

"Just wondering why you were late."

"Late?" You took out your pocket watch. It was just after 4 o'clock. "Oh, it's teatime already? I can't believe I almost missed it! I totally lost track of time." You jumped up from your seat. "Let's go!"

"What happened to watching your experiment with hawk eyes?"

You winced, visibly deflated as the excitement drained from your body. "You're right", you mumbled. "I did say that…" Why had you promised that, again?

You slumped back into the chair, eyes fixed on the flasks. They were still bubbling happily, almost as if they were mocking you.

Hange had told you to watch the experiment until they got back. It had seemed easy enough, while also giving you the perfect excuse to get out of today's training. You just never would've imagined they'd take this long.

"Go on without me…" you said in a dramatic, choked up voice.

Levi snorted. He pulled up a chair. "Don't be stupid. You'll get withdrawal symptoms." He knew how you got when you didn't have your afternoon tea. It wasn't pretty.

"These your notes?" He pointed at the lab journal.

You stared at him. It certainly looked like he was offering to watch the experiment for you. But that couldn't be right. You had to be dreaming again. Or hallucinating. It had been a while since you'd had your last tea. Maybe these were some new withdrawal symptoms? Still, you had to make sure.

"Don't tell me… You would give up on teatime for me?"

"Go before I change my mind."

"Wow. For real? Thank you!" You beamed at him. "I'm honestly so touched. You're the best, you know that? The best!"

You bent forward to give him a little kiss on the cheek. His eyes widened.

"I really don't know what I'd do without you," you went on, still smiling cheerfully, before getting up from your chair.

Levi cleared his throat. He wasn't looking at you. "I have work to do. So don't take too long."

"Of course not," you reassured him. "I'll be right back. You won't even notice I was gone."

He rolled his eyes. That was a blatant lie. You always took your time with tea, savoring every last drop.

You were already at the door when you suddenly turned back around.

"I just want you to know…"

"What?" Levi asked.

"I'll never forget your glorious sacrifice," you declared solemnly.

Before he could answer, you were already out the door.

Levi looked after you, absently bringing a hand up to his cheek.

"Tch. Always so dramatic," he grumbled to himself, but his gaze was soft.

Tag list: @thechaoticarchivist, @mmm-alhaitham, @nironasaran, @leviiheichou, @huffleruffplant, @shutupp1, @iifrui, @shakysif, @ickearmn

[nowimjustastranger]

possible fic request: chap 2/3 ford pov of you look like yourself (but you’re somebody else) when he sees stan/saves him from the creatures/patches him up? whatever works best

Ford crouched on top of a large rock that protruded from the sand, his eyes vigilantly sweeping over the expanse of desert as he sipped from his water canteen. Most of the wildlife on this planet resided underground so the ability to see had been bred out of most species, replaced with sensors that could detect vibration.

Delta/R3 wasn’t the worst dimension that Ford had traveled through, nor was it the most dangerous.

Ford paused when he saw something move in the distance, half hidden by another boulder. He tapped the side of his goggles to zoom in on the area of interest, brows furrowing when he saw a pair of human legs sticking out from behind the rock. Ford shifted as far over as he could while remaining on his perch, screwing the cap back onto his water canteen before stuffing it into his pack.

The legs shifted again, boots digging into the sand as the knees drew up to brace under an equally human torso. Ford had been consuming plenty of water and even started eating semi-regularly between doses of his meal replacement pills again, so he highly doubted what he was seeing was a result of a hallucination. Still, Ford did a quick recon of his body to be certain that he could trust his eyes.

It quickly became apparent that he was in perfect health save for some lost sleep, which meant that there was an actual human being in this wasteland with him. Ford widened his stance, pressing a hand to the rock to keep his balance, his free hand rapidly tapping the side of goggles to enhance the image. He caught a brief glimpse of grown out brown hair and an arm before a Guux descended upon its unsuspecting prey.

Ford hadn’t even seen it emerge from its burrow, as focused on the human as he was.

The scream that cut through the air had Ford’s body lunging off its perch before his brain could even register that he recognized that sound, hitting the ground running. He jammed his finger against the side of the goggles to reduce the zoom so his depth perception wouldn’t be off, his other hand drawing his gun. He couldn’t get a clear shot with the boulder in the way, so he adjusted his course to a wide arc.

Ford’s finger froze on the trigger when he cleared the rock and saw just who was dangling from the Guux’s jaws, his heart leaping into his throat at the sheer amount of red that covered both Stanley and the surrounding area. There was far too much blood outside of Stanley’s body, which jerked when the Guux began to retreat back to its burrow with its meal.

Ford heard a choked cry and it was due to muscle memory that he was able to react as quickly as he did, his hand smoothly correcting his aim before he squeezed the trigger. Ford had to lock his knees to keep from rushing to Stanley when he dropped from the Guux’s mouth, hitting the ground in an unmoving heap. Ford’s vision tunneled on Stanley as the Guux roared at him, silently willing his brother to show some sign of life.

After what felt like an eternity –but was really only a second or so– Stanley moved, weakly pushing himself up. The Guux twitched when it sensed Stanley’s movement and Ford fired two more shots before it could go for Stanley a second time. The Guux twitched as it toppled over to lay in a rapidly growing puddle of its own acrid yellow blood, sending up a plume of sand that obscured Ford’s view of his brother.

Ford prowled forward, sidestepping the Guux’s corpse as the cloud of sand was broken apart by the wind, revealing the familiar face of his teenage brother. Ford would assume he was seventeen if not for the hair, but he couldn’t possibly be any older than twenty. Ford leveled his gun with Stanley’s chest when the teen pushed himself back a bit, forcing his hand to remain steady.

Ford crept closer at a controlled pace so he could dodge at a moment’s notice, searching for any indication that this was some kind trap meant to lure him into a false sense of security. And, if it was a facade, it was a good one. Ford couldn’t find any deformities or imperfections that would reveal that this was indeed just an elaborate plot with the end goal of killing him.

So that left the suddenly very real possibility that he was currently holding his brother at gunpoint.

Stanley was talking, saying something, but Ford couldn’t hear it over the heartbeat thundering in his ears. But this wasn’t the time nor place for a breakdown, he had to compartmentalize and keep moving. Stopping meant death or worse, especially out in the open. Even so, Ford was undeniably compromised and Stanley needed immediate medical attention.

But one last test first. He had to be sure.

Ford swiftly closed the distance between them as a bitten-off shout emitted from Stanley when he foolishly tried to gesticulate, Ford swallowing the impulse to scold him for forgetting the fact that his arm and shoulder were more shredded meat than functional limb at the moment. Ford’s stomach rolled at the comparison, startling him. Ford hadn’t been squeamish since he was still a child, so feeling nausea outside of contracting an illness was a novel experience.

Stanley’s wild eyes darted down to Ford’s hand when it slipped into the inner pocket of his trench coat to retrieve the DNA reader, telegraphing his movement as he extended the device with the intention of taking some blood that was leaking from Stanley’s wound. However, Ford wasn’t exactly surprised when Stanley twisted away, shielding the wounded limb as best he could under the circumstances.

Ford’s finger tightened on the trigger automatically, causing the gun to charge in an upward crescendo that had Stanley’s face going alarmingly pale as he obediently stilled. Ford carefully relaxed his finger as he collected a sample of blood, the wind abruptly dying down as if the universe itself were holding its breath. Ford split his attention between the device and Stanley as the compartment snapped shut, braced for the worst.

The screen lit up and Ford’s mind went blank, staring down at the results in disbelief.

Stanley Filbrick Pines – Dimension M55”0

[tapintorealities]

Reparenting Your Subconscious

I had a breakthrough recently with my relationship with my subconscious mind!

I'd seen a lot of LOAssumption/shifting posts venting about the subconscious mind being the one holding us back, how it needed to be "fixed", and generally a lot of people being frustrated with their subconscious and resenting it.

And I related to it for a while. I'd be impatiently tapping my foot and staring at my subconscious like "DO YOU GET IT YET? WE'RE POWERFUL, YOU IDIOT."

But recently, I started to feel sorry for my subconscious.

Like, it'd been fed so much bullshit for so long. Even when we'd tried to break out of limiting beliefs before, we fell back into old patterns.

I realized it felt a lot like my subconscious was actually my inner child - unsure about a lot of things, and looking to be led by someone older and wiser. Desperately wanting to believe in magic but doubting because everyone they looked to for guidance told them to grow up and accept "the real world".

So even though my conscious mind knows how powerful we are, how we have complete control over what version of the Infinite Realities we experience, my subconscious had been basically abused for years (in this reality, in this body's psyche), being told things like "life isn't fair", "everyone is born evil and doesn't deserve good things", and other limiting beliefs that it didn't know any better than to accept into its worldview at the time.

So, I'm trying something new.

I'm reparenting my subconscious mind.

Instead of getting frustrated with it when I see things in the 3D that don't reflect the reality I've chosen to experience, I'm mentally kneeling next to it like it's a scared child and saying, "Hey, I know you've been taught that this is the only way the world can look. But you deserve so much better. Let's try again, okay?"

And I reach out my hand and I take my little subconscious further down the road we're on, the road where we feel empowered and free and limitless.

My subconscious mind isn't my enemy, it's the naive child within me, open to accepting any beliefs about our world(s). And that child just needs a little guidance and is looking to me, my conscious mind, to show it how the world works.

I might even give it a different name so I can talk to it more personally and really take on that parenting role. 💖

Just thought I'd share in case it resonates with anyone else.

I feel a lot freer and less frustrated now that I'm viewing my subconscious as a precious child that has a brilliantly creative talent but has been abused and belittled for ages, and just needs a gentle parental figure to show them how beautiful life can be -- no matter what we'd been led to believe before.

[poeticamethyst]

Cobra Kai Kiaz moments that I noticed in season 6 part 2 : im a little sleepy now so this list may be updated and quoted later but anyways you have been warned that this is a spoiler post

Within the first five minutes Miguel clearly wanted to share a room with Robby. Not to mention that look he gave him when he came out of the shower later on. 🤭🌚

Miguel notices Robby leaving the hotel room, paying special attention to him- as if he wasn’t already when he kept calling Robby’s name as the bet was being made with Kwon beforehand.

Miguel “shows how it’s done” in the tournament but really I think it was to impress Robby and motivate him, not to try and show he’s “better” then Robby- especially with that leadership pep talk he gave him which is a whole other moment that proves my point- “you not being a leader is bullshit”

Miguel STOOD UP TO JOHNNY LIKE IN SEASON THREE! I NEEDED MORE OF THAT! “You’ll probably find a way to make things worse at the hospital too. Just how you couldn’t walk to the hospital when Robby was born, huh? No wonder Robby’s so messed up.” Something along those lines

Miguel immediately asking Robby what was going on when he was gone, I just wanted them to kiss right there as keenry seemed to be over (even if it was sad miscommunication) and I think they could have if Miguel had the wrong idea with axel. But ofc I loved he believed Sam but axel lowkey seems psycho lol it was giving Yandere but ANYWAY I did ship saxel at the beach when I saw them! Enough yapping now

Miguel’s voice echoing in Robby’s head before he tapped Kenny in saying “lead and we’ll follow” was so gosh darn beautiful and romantic, for the first time we see Miggy be a positive light in Robby’s head!

At the brawl they end up feeling each others backs and turn around and nod before kicking ass together! 🥺🥹

Miguel called the binary brothers (or boyfriends) his brothers and NOT Robby- but agreed they were all family hehe. Robby’s just not his ‘brother’. 🌚

I don’t know why, but that little conversation “maybe you should take your own advice” “you got something to say?” “I’ve already said it” in the locker room hit hard- I got the sense Miguel was jealous of Tory but also really wanted Robby to succeed and was worried all at once. Robby definitely noticed and took every word Miguel said to heart and that’s why he has a conflicted look on his face when Miguel leaves also mad at Johnny. Just AGH I love them

[openphrase123]

Hi I heard you had a ballet AU???????? Uh I love ballet with all my heart and In Stars and Time too ig Siffrin's a guy and I draw Mira when bored whatever BALLET AU???

Might I request a random Ballet AU thought of any sort? (Also is there a fic I can read and if there's not can I please please write it and even if there is can I please write something about this anyways I love ballet)

oh it's not really an AU, it's more of me going "if i was going to choreograph and direct an in stars and time ballet this is how i'd do it". there's no fic but be free and put ballet fanfiction out into the universe. people need to learn ballet is fun

but one thing i think would be really funny is if odile's dancer spends practically the whole ballet not doing group dances or variations because she's "too tired" and keeps fanning her face and sitting down in the middle of performances, acting like her back hurts or whatever. and then out of fucking nowhere during her friendquest scene with siffrin she pulls out crazy pointe tricks (yes i think i'm funny and linked the swan lake odile variation)

also i don't think bonnie's dancer should be classically trained in ballet. (or at least it's not their primary discipline) i think they should feel like they wandered in from some other random dance set entirely. it doesn't matter what the kid's trained in as long as it's NOT ballet. let bonnie be the only tap dancer in the whole show i think it'd be funny

[doctorbarontsct]

Wait, fucking Carmilla? After everything that happened with the last time he'd met the good old doc, Marius had words to say with her. Mostly curse ones, honestly, if she wasn't actually doing anything useful, but that was neither here nor there.

She'd claimed she'd not been the reason he'd gotten hurt? Fine. Whatever. It was probably her letting Annabelle Cane on the ship, and that was just as bad. Coming in to talk with her about it, and her insistence that Lyf had needed to see that portal, had been what had brought him on this journey in the first place.

She'd hurt Nastya and Jonny, even if she'd not meant to intentionally. She'd hurt Brenn and her friend, even if she'd claimed she'd had some sort of consent. And in the end, she'd hurt Lyf, even if she'd meant to help, showing them that portal because Annabelle had claimed that would help them.

She'd said, before he'd jumped, that she would do her best on her side to look for ways to help. It was maybe the only nice thing that she'd ever said, in person or not, that he'd believed.

If she was here, any version of her, and hurting anyone, then Marius wasn't just going to stand here. If it wasn't her, then he had no qualms about hurting a mannequin, ever.

But he was holding on to Lyf still, so he wasn't going to just head rush the probable-mannequin first thing. Instead, signalling and starting with insults, first, and then rushing into battle together, hopefully.

"Well, hey there, Doctor Fuckface," he yelled around the corner. "Thought you said you weren't planning on hurting any of your kids any time soon. Or maybe that was just what you were saying one of the last times we talked."

Lyf's fingers brushed against his arm, and Marius tapped back, the only real signal he could give. "See, if it's really you over there, I'm taking that as an invite to come over and show you just what I think about that. Or about spider people, or dimensional portals, or. . . well, the list goes on."

If it was this dimension's Carmilla, she'd probably be confused, and Marius could move in with a knife or gun or something in a second, with Lyf at his side. If it was his, she'd be confused too, but probably wouldn't have been threatening Jonny into a corner into the first place. And a mannequin. . .

Well, if it was a mannequin, hopefully that threat would have given Jonny the moment he needed to break out of whatever freeze he had going, and Marius could help out if need be in just a minute.

https://www.tumblr.com/doctorbarontsct/765335072373178368/when-marius-sees-the-flash-of-rainbow-hair-out-of?source=share

"Someone took away your Jonny's harmonics privileges. They can't figure out where I keep finding mine, so they can't take away mine," Jonny said as he played on.

"Jonny," Brian said finally. "Cut the shit before I tell Raphaella to take your brain out and put you in a jar until it grows back. Again. Marius is very obviously not well, and you're picking a fight with him. Please, love." He sighed, looking over Marius once again. "Okay. So, it's been a few weeks since you could last move your arm. This slug is likely what's preventing you from being able to move it, and we don't want to do anything until we have somewhere to safely put it."

Tim hummed. "Jar could work. I'm just saying we should think about putting in the jar."

"You just want to give it to Raphaella so she stops pouting her science projects dying," Jonny grumbled.

Tim just smiled. "Is that so wrong?"

[ @allthesemechanismsbutnocoping ]

"That's about it, I think?" Marius said. He willfully doesn't think about the amount of food he's had over the last few weeks. Or sleep. Or the toe thing, or the mines, or the fact that his other arm is still not working, or the number of things he didn't even mention on Tumblr because he thought this universe's Lyf would have a heart attack.

It's not like that lightning strike did any permanent damage anyway.

"But yeah, somewhere to put it safely, and we're sure taking it out won't make things worse," he added, because that seemed like a very important point he'd made, and he didn't want anyone forgetting that one.

[burstingsunrise]

prithee, dear molly, may i request a luke monologue on the subject of your choice

so polite and proper! <3 omg ok what luke subject do i want to tackle when there are so many worth monologuing about?

maybe this would be a good opportunity to talk a little bit about luke tour and the specific brand of luke that he embodies at his solo shows.

because i think it's really interesting - he has his 5sos stage persona which we are very familiar with, still him but really amplifying specific parts of him for the drama. but when he's doing solo shows he still has that charisma and showmanship and general vibe, but it's like...toned down a bit and more heavily mixed with offstage luke.

with solo luke, the whole "sexy sad" thing really comes through during the actual performances of his songs - there's still a level of sluttiness happening but it's wrapped up in the specific emotions of the songs moreso than something he's playing up for an audience, if that makes sense.

the in between banter is a little different too, less broad and showy and more specific to him. it's little things, like the way you can tell he's thought ahead about what he's going to say for each city, but when he talks about those things, it's not rehearsed, it's just the way it naturally comes out of him.

the way no matter how many times he talks about how incredible it is to play these songs for people he's genuinely emotional about it every single time.

the way he can indulge himself a little bc he has more time, and that leads to more specific insights into his mind in the moment bc he has the space to just ramble a bit and see where it takes him.

but mostly it's the way he's a little bit softer overall, a little more vulnerable without the rest of the band to play off, and there's something really special about getting to see that.

and don't think you're getting out of here without hearing about dayquil luke! that was even crazier because it was a lot of offstage luke seeping in, but the version of him that's feeling really comfortable and silly rather than the more introverted and awkwardly charming one. it was the most purely luke-ish i've ever seen him on stage, all the luke things about him coming out (mostly) unselfconsciously, and i will never recover.

thank u to anyone who's made it this far for indulging me. here's some dc armpit and ass for your trouble <3

[shyhandart]

Hey guys in the most chill way possible could you reblog art. please

[the-delightful-temptation]

The imagery of the theater breaking up, being taken over by the red mist that came from his still lit cigarette, glad it wasn’t put away before all this happened.

“I almost forgot what happened when I died.” The physical smoke raises Rolando from the ground by his throat, tightenging even more as the overlord gets angrier and pins him against the wall. “The reason why I do everything I do. Yeah I may be afraid of being worthless.”

The smoke brings Rolando to the ground, slamming his face against the floor before stepping on the back of his head. 

“But I’m not. I’m the most successful and powerful sinner on this ring.” Valentino puts some pressure on the demon that was on the ground, the crimson tendrils started wrapping around his body, wanting to keep him tied and not flee from him. “I could’ve strong armed you into a deal, but you were stupid enough to try to fuck with my mind.”

Valentino makes the smoke hands lock the door, close the windows and make sure the place was all closed. He wanted none of his employees to have contact with Rolando, nor Rolando leaving the place. The moth kneels near the fish demon.

“You know something I learned all these years doing what I do?” Valentino places a hand on Rolando’s cheek, giving a couple of light taps on it. “That people really think I’m all talk.” 

As soon as Val finishes that sentence, he grabs Rolando’s fin close to his cheek and rips it, leaving just enough for it to dangle on his face.

“I’ll show you why people really are afraid of me.” The overlord towered in front of the fish demon before stepping and kicking him on the ground.

"Such a pathetic daddy's boy," he purrs to hearing those scrumptious words. He was so sure that he had the advantage, so sure he would feast upon this glorious meal until Valentino was left as nothing but a muttering mess. That was until he curled his lip at that sweet scent wafting to him. The smell was penetrating through the theater, tainting his domain he thought would give him the clear advantage.

He did have it, but there was a timer he was unaware of.

The theater shudders in its image the moment the smoke grabbed at Rolando's throat. His form gurgles, attempting to slip out of it, but once the smoke had its hold the water could not pull him from it. The chairs began to melt and the chains dissolved away off of Valentino to free him from this show.

His illusionary domain started to fade back into where they really were in Valentino's room. Already, Rolando was choking on the sweet scent, his least favorite of flavors even after he had been engorging himself upon that beautiful anguish just moments ago.

He reaches up to the smoke, to claw at it around his neck. "How dare you!" He mirrors what Valentino had said to him and now it seemed he was on the other side of the table now.

"Interrupting a meal is the highest of insults! I will ensure your downfall into worthlessness is swift and your body nothing but bones to be used as toothpicks!" In a violent motion he tried to step away, to physically yank at the smoke in a last ditch effort. If he could only get it off he could dissolve away with his water. He would not be made a fool by another Overlord.