#will i ever be able to write something short?

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 she ignored my letter!

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, James writes you a love letter and hides it into your luggage carrying your clothes, not knowing he put it in a pocket you never open.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever)

a/n: heyyy... i had sm fun writing this, can't wait to write the rest of this bc i literally LOVE anne with an e and this is inspired by it ofc!!!! anyways, im barely writing now..smh, its cause im reading manacled and its literally heart breaking... im also editing on ae and its so hard so im slowly learning😭 but i want to finish this mini series by next week!!

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

James had liked you for a while now. He wasn’t quite sure when it started—maybe it was the way you laughed at his jokes, always the loudest in the room. Or perhaps it was when he’d catch you staring at him, your gaze lingering just a bit too long, thinking he was too distracted to notice.

With the Christmas holidays fast approaching, James knew he had to make a move. He had to let you know how he felt. If you didn’t feel the same, maybe the time apart over the holiday would make it less awkward. But he couldn’t let another term slip by in silence.

Knowing your love for all things old-fashioned, James decided there was no better way to confess his feelings than through a handwritten letter. It felt personal, genuine—something you’d appreciate. But writing it turned out to be harder than he imagined.

He’d written and discarded at least a dozen drafts, each one crumpled and tossed aside in frustration. Finally, after half an hour of agonizing over the perfect words, he settled on this version. It was short, straightforward, and sincere:

Dear, (Y/N)

I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a complete idiot. I’ve tried a hundred times, and every single attempt has been worse than the last. So here’s the truth—I’m hopelessly in love with you.

You’ve probably guessed I’m not great at being subtle. But what I’ve never been able to say outright is how much you mean to me. The way you laugh, the way your nose scrunches when you’re concentrating—Merlin, you make it impossible to focus on anything else. I want you to know that you’ve made me braver, happier, better. If you don’t feel the same, that’s okay—I just needed to get this off my chest.

Yours, James

He sighed deeply, folding the letter carefully before slipping it into an envelope. Your name was written on the front in his slightly shaky handwriting. Taking a steadying breath, he tucked it into the inside pocket of his robes. He’d leave it somewhere you’d find it tomorrow, just before you both left for the holidays.

As he lay awake that night, James tried to figure out the best way to deliver the letter. Should he hand it to you directly? No, that was too nerve-wracking—he’d probably end up babbling like an idiot. Maybe he could slip it into your bag and avoid the risk of witnessing your reaction.

The morning was crisp, the kind of cold that painted your cheeks red and sent little clouds of breath swirling in the air. On the platform, the train sat waiting, puffing out plumes of steam that mingled with the frosty air. It was alive with the sound of students saying goodbye and dragging their luggage over the cobblestones.

James walked beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He was doing his best to appear casual, though every step he took felt heavier with the weight of the letter in his robe.

“Let me take that for you,” he blurted suddenly, nodding toward your luggage.

You blinked, surprised by the offer, but your lips curved into a warm smile. “Oh, thanks, James. That’s really sweet of you.”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but his ears turned a telltale shade of pink at your words. “What kind of bloke would I be if I didn’t help you out?” he mumbled, his voice tinged with nervous humor.

The two of you chatted as you strolled toward the train. You told him about your plans for the holidays—how you were excited to see your family, how your mum always made far too much food, and how you couldn’t wait to decorate the tree. James listened intently, nodding and laughing at all the right moments, even as his mind raced ahead to the task at hand.

Then, his opportunity came.

You turned away for a brief moment, waving at one of your friends across the platform. James acted quickly, pulling the envelope from his pocket and slipping it into the outermost compartment of your bag. His fingers brushed the fabric for only a second, but it felt like an eternity.

His heart was hammering so loudly he was certain it could be heard over the clamor of the platform. He straightened up just as you turned back to him, completely oblivious to what had just transpired.

“Thanks again for carrying that,” you said with a smile, your eyes meeting his.

James gave a small, lopsided grin and shifted your bag on his shoulder. “Anytime,” he replied, his voice steady despite the storm of nerves swirling inside him.

As the train’s whistle blew, signaling it was time to board, James knew there was no turning back now. All he could do was wait—and hope that when you found the letter, you’d read it and understand the words that had taken him so long to say.

It had been days since you’d left for the holidays, and James still hadn’t heard from you. Each passing day only worsened the sinking feeling in his chest.

Did you not feel the same? Did you hate him for ruining the friendship? Or worse, were you so disgusted by his confession that you couldn’t even bear to send him a letter saying so?

By Christmas morning, the knot of worry in James’s stomach had become unbearable. He’d stopped pacing and pretending not to care. He spent the early hours staring at the window, waiting for an owl that seemed as though it would never come.

But then, just as the first rays of sunlight streamed through his frosted window, he saw it—a familiar owl perched outside, clutching a small envelope in its talons. His heart leapt with a desperate flicker of hope. Maybe you’d only just found the letter. Maybe you’d taken your time because you wanted to write something perfect.

James hurried to open the window, shivering as the cold air rushed in. The owl extended its leg, allowing him to untie the letter. “Thanks, mate,” James murmured, absently offering the owl a treat before it flew off into the winter sky.

His fingers trembled as he opened the envelope, eager to see your handwriting. But his heart sank the moment he read the first line.

“Happy Christmas, James!”

No mention of his letter. No response to his confession. Just a short, cheerful note wishing him a wonderful holiday and apologizing for not writing sooner. You explained that things had been hectic at home and promised to catch up with him soon.

James felt his chest tighten, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. The hope he’d been clinging to was slipping through his fingers.

You’d ignored his letter.

You’d chosen to act as though he’d never written it at all, as if he’d never poured his heart out on that piece of parchment.

James scoffed, his grip on the letter tightening. Fine, he thought bitterly. If you were going to pretend his confession didn’t exist, he could do the same.

He shoved the letter onto his desk, glaring at it as if it were the source of his frustration. Deep down, though, he knew the truth: he didn’t want to ignore you. He wanted to write back, to ask if you’d found the letter, to make sure you weren’t upset with him.

But pride was a stubborn thing, and James Potter wasn’t about to let his vulnerability show again—not now.

As the snow fell softly outside his window, James sat in silence, staring at the letter and wondering if he’d made a mistake by ever writing to you in the first place.

When it was time to return to Hogwarts, James made no effort to find you. Normally, he’d scan the platform, pretending it was a coincidence whenever his eyes landed on you. This time, he couldn’t bring himself to look.

He saw you anyway, just briefly—standing near your family, your face lit up with that familiar smile. His heart leaped in his chest, and his legs almost betrayed him, ready to stride over and say something, anything. But he stopped himself.

Instead, James turned sharply, mumbling a quick goodbye to his parents before heading onto the train. He didn’t want to see you—not now.

The walk through the train felt heavier than usual. He knew exactly where his friends would be—the same compartment they’d claimed since their first year—but it felt like an eternity to get there. When he finally slid open the door, the familiar faces of Sirius, Remus, and Peter greeted him.

“Oi, Prongs!” Sirius called cheerfully, but his grin faltered when James slumped onto the seat next to Peter with a loud huff.

James leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. He could feel Sirius’s gaze on him, curious and probing.

“What’s got your wand in a knot?” Sirius asked, unable to resist.

“Don’t.” James’s voice was sharp, firm. It was rare for him to be in a foul mood, let alone snappish.

Sirius raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I won’t say a word.”

The tension in the compartment was palpable. The train rattled on, and the usual chatter of the four friends was noticeably absent. Sirius kept stealing glances at James, who sat brooding, arms crossed. Peter fidgeted nervously, while Remus flipped through a book, clearly uncomfortable with the silence.

Finally, about an hour into the ride, James broke.

“She ignored my letter.” His voice was low, bitter, but it shattered the quiet like a hex.

The others exchanged looks before Peter spoke hesitantly. “She really ignored it?”

“Yes, Peter,” James snapped, his tone sharp enough to make Peter flinch. Realizing what he’d done, James sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” Peter mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

“Maybe she didn’t see it,” Remus offered, his tone calm and rational. “What if it got lost in her luggage? Or someone else found it and hid it? Maybe you gave her another piece of parchment? There’s always a chance—”

“Moony, no.” James cut him off, his voice strained. “I double-checked. It was the right letter, in the right spot. And who doesn’t check their trunk full of clothes over the holiday?”

“Maybe she doesn’t,” Sirius said with a shrug, trying to lighten the mood. “You know, women can be unpredictable. Maybe she’s got a secret stash for random letters in her trunk.”

“No, she checks,” James said with certainty. “I’ve slipped plenty of things into her luggage before, and she’s always found them. She just doesn’t fancy me back.” His voice cracked slightly at the end, but he forced a small, bitter smile. “And it’s fine. I’ll get over it. I always do, right?”

The compartment fell silent again, the weight of James’s words sinking in.

Sirius leaned forward, a flicker of frustration in his eyes. “It’s not fine, James. If she didn’t fancy you back, that’s one thing. But ignoring you? That’s—”

“Don’t,” James interrupted quietly, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Don’t make it worse, Padfoot.”

Sirius bit back a retort and leaned back in his seat, muttering under his breath.

The rest of the ride passed more comfortably, but the shadow of James’s disappointment lingered. His friends cracked jokes and told stories, trying to lift his spirits, but even when he laughed, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Deep down, James wondered if he’d ever stop wishing that you’d read his letter and felt the same way.

Hours later, everyone had gathered in the Great Hall. The enchanted ceiling reflected the dusky evening sky, and the buzz of students catching up after the holiday filled the room. Normally, James would sit with Sirius to his left, you to his right, and Remus and Peter across from him. It was a familiar arrangement, one you’d fallen into without question.

But tonight, James broke the routine.

He subtly nudged Peter into the spot on his right before sitting down, leaving the space where you’d usually sit conspicuously empty.

You walked in a moment later, scanning the Gryffindor table until you spotted your usual group. But when you approached, your steps faltered. Peter sat where you always did, looking apologetic but saying nothing.

Your eyes darted to James, silently questioning him, but he avoided your gaze, his attention fixed stubbornly on his plate.

Confused, you looked to Remus for an explanation. Out of all the Marauders, he was the one you trusted most to give you a straight answer. But Remus only shrugged, his expression carefully neutral, though the twitch at the corner of his mouth hinted at discomfort.

You scoffed, your chest tightening. First, James ignored you all through the holiday, and now he didn’t even want to sit near you? Fine. If he wanted to sulk like a child, you weren’t going to beg for his attention.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked further down the table, sliding into a seat beside your other group of friends. You forced yourself to laugh at their jokes and join in their chatter, but your mind kept wandering back to James.

At the Gryffindor table, James���s eyes flicked toward you more often than he’d admit. Every time he saw you laughing with your friends, his stomach twisted.

“Why is she acting like I’m the one in the wrong?” James muttered under his breath, jabbing at a piece of roast potato with his fork.

“Maybe because you’re acting like a prat?” Sirius replied, his tone laced with amusement as he leaned closer.

James shot him a glare.

“Look, Prongs,” Sirius continued, dropping the teasing. “She doesn’t know what’s going on. You didn’t even give her a chance to explain, and now you’re sulking like a first-year who lost his chocolate frog cards.”

“Explain what? She ignored my letter, Padfoot. What’s there to explain?” James hissed, though his tone lacked its usual conviction.

Remus sighed, setting down his goblet. “Did it ever cross your mind that maybe she doesn’t even know what letter you’re talking about?”

James froze, his fork hovering mid-air.

“Just talk to her, mate,” Sirius said, giving James a nudge. “Or don’t. But if you keep this up, you’re only making it worse—for both of you.”

James huffed, slumping back in his seat. The truth was, he didn’t know if he had it in him to face you just yet.

From across the hall, you caught the way James’s shoulders sagged, and for a brief moment, you considered walking over. But pride held you in place. If James wanted to act like this, fine. Two could play that game.

You and James hadn’t spoken in what felt like weeks. The once effortless connection you shared had been replaced with an awkward silence that weighed heavily on you. It wasn’t just James—it felt like the whole group of Marauders had grown distant, their usual antics and inside jokes missing their spark when you were around.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d done something to upset him. But what? You racked your brain for answers, replaying every interaction from the past few months. James had always been one of your closest friends—why was he acting so strange?

Charms class was the hardest part of it all. You always sat beside James, sharing notes, exchanging whispers, and stifling laughs when Professor Flitwick wasn’t looking. Now, you sat in the same spot, the chair next to you glaringly empty.

You tried to focus on the professor’s instructions, but your thoughts were louder than his voice. Scribbling aimlessly in your notebook, you hardly noticed when someone approached your desk.

“Are you alright?”

Startled, you looked up to see a boy with a blue-and-bronze tie standing beside you. His face was vaguely familiar—you’d seen him around in class but had never spoken to him.

“Yeah—yes, I’m fine,” you stammered, blinking in confusion. Why was he talking to you?

He gave a polite, slightly amused smile. “Well, can you move your stuff? I’m sitting here now. We’re partners for the project.”

“Oh!” Heat rose to your cheeks as you hurriedly shoved your books to one side. “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize.”

“No worries,” he said, settling into the chair beside you. “I figured you weren’t paying attention—no offense. But I was, so I’ll explain what Professor Flitwick said.”

You managed a small smile, relieved by his casual tone. “Thanks. That’s… helpful.”

While he began outlining the project details, your focus wavered, glancing at James out of the corner of your eye. He was across the room, seated next to a loud and enthusiastic partner who seemed to be trying desperately to get his attention. But James wasn’t listening.

His gaze was fixed on you.

There was a flicker of something in his expression—jealousy, maybe? Regret? Whatever it was, it made your stomach twist.

You quickly turned your attention back to your new partner, nodding along to his explanation, even if you weren’t entirely listening. You felt James’s eyes on you the entire time, but you refused to look back.

Across the room, James’s jaw clenched. His partner waved a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his trance.

“Oi, Potter! Are you even listening?”

“Huh? Yeah, sure,” James muttered, though his eyes drifted back to you moments later.

He hated this—seeing someone else sitting beside you, making you smile when that used to be his seat, his job. But he didn’t know how to fix it. The letter. The silence. The way he’d avoided you. It all felt too big now, too messy to undo.

Still, James couldn’t stop watching you, his heart sinking further with every laugh you shared with your new partner.

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taglist!! @zowiiiisblog , @kxnnxy , @rainingleaves , @icollectrubberduckies , @elsie-bells

[writingquestionsanswered]

WQA Site News

Hey, everyone! You may have noticed I've been relatively absent over the past couple of months. I've made the difficult decision to close down the ask box for a while, possibly permanently. This is partly because I needed to shift my priorities back toward my own writing and taking time out for myself. It's also partly because I just couldn't keep up with the inbox. It was rare there was ever less than 30 to 50 asks at any given time, and over the years questions seem to have gravitated away from general writing questions to requests for plot specific advice... which of course comes with lengthy plot rundowns. At the end of the day, those types of questions became the bulk of what was in my inbox. I realized that the needs of the community had shifted from needing general writing advice to personalized writing coaching, and that's just not something I'm able to offer here.

I have loved every single second I've put into this blog, and I am so unbelievably proud of the fact that many of you over the years have messaged me to say that you got a trad book deal or indie published your book, or were on your way to one or the other. That's something I will always hold as part of my tiny legacy on this big blue marble. Thank you, so much, for giving me the opportunity to do it.

The blog will stay up so you can access past posts and the WQA post masterlist. And maybe, periodically, I'll open the ask box up for a short period of time. Or, possibly, I may even open it back up permanently one day. Hard to say for sure. But, in the meantime, wherever you are, may your writing be fruitful, your reading be blissful, and may you stay safe and protected always.

Love,

WQA

[bamgyuuuri]

⤷ delicate ┈ cbg.

pairing. beomgyu x afab!reader . angst . moral dilemmas word count. 1.1k short note ... im supposed to be studying for exams tmr but ended up writing this drabble instead,, ;P i’ll actually get to the reqs sent to me once i finish finals i promise omg

all your friends despised beomgyu.

their hatred wasn’t casual, the kind born out of a passing annoyance or a small slight, no. it was deep, raw, and visceral, the kind of hatred that grew roots in every whispered conversation, every sharp glance, every cruel joke that lingered in the air long after it was said.

“he’s the worst kind of person,” one of your friends said one evening, her voice tight and bitter as she stabbed at her salad with her fork.

the group was seated in your favorite booth at the diner, the one you always shared late into the night, laughter echoing against the walls—except tonight was different. tonight, the atmosphere was tense, heavy. “he didn’t just lead her on. he used her.”

your other friends nodded, their agreement coming in muttered curses and sharp scoffs.

“what he did to her exactly?” another leaned forward, her voice dropping into an almost conspiratorial whisper, like the words were too vile to say out loud. 

“he led her on for months. months. and then just... disappeared. like she was nothing. like she didn’t even matter. god, if i ever see him again, i don’t know what i’d do.”

“honestly,” one of them said, turning to look directly at you, “i don’t get how you’re so calm about this. if i were you, i’d never be able to even think about him without wanting to scream.”

your throat tightened. you stared into your untouched drink, watching the condensation drip down the glass like it held the answers to the storm raging inside you.

you wanted to say something. you wanted to tell them that they were wrong, that the boy they described wasn’t the beomgyu you knew. but how could you? how could you speak up without unraveling the tangled mess of lies and secrets you had been holding together with trembling hands?

because the truth was something they could never know.

they didn’t know that while your friend had been falling for beomgyu, he had been falling for someone else.

he had been falling for you.

the guilt had been unbearable at first. it clawed at you, sinking its sharp, unrelenting talons into your chest every time your friend cried on your shoulder, her voice trembling as she whispered, “what did I do wrong?”

you held her, whispered reassurances you didn’t even believe, all the while knowing that you were the reason her heart had been broken.

you told yourself you would walk away. that you had to.

but then he would look at you with those eyes, dark and full of something so raw and vulnerable it made your knees weak. his walls would crumble, just for you, and the boy they all hated became someone entirely different. someone you couldn’t let go of.

“do you hate me too?” he had asked one night, his voice quiet and small, like he was afraid of the answer. you were sitting on the floor of your bedroom, the soft glow of a candle flickering between you. he was leaning back on his hands, his gaze fixed on you, searching, waiting.

your breath caught. “what?”

“everyone else does,” he continued, his lips twitching into a humorless smile. “so I figure… maybe you do too. maybe you should.”

your heart shattered. “beomgyu—”

“i know what they think of me,” he interrupted, his voice trembling now, cracking under the weight of emotions he couldn’t hold back. “i know what they say. and maybe… maybe they’re right. maybe I am horrible. but…” he reached for you then, his hand brushing against yours, warm and hesitant. “when i’m with you, it doesn’t feel like I’m that person. you make me want to be better. you make me feel like… like maybe I can be.”

you had no words. his gaze burned into you, his eyes filled with something so achingly sincere it made it hard to breathe.

but the guilt was still there, a sharp blade twisting in your chest, cutting deeper with every moment you stayed. you knew what your friends would think if they found out, the way their faces would contort with anger, with betrayal. you could hear their accusations, their voices dripping with venom. how could you do this to her? how could you do this to us?

and yet, despite the weight of it all, you couldn’t walk away.

because you loved him.

and that made it worse, somehow.

it wasn’t just that you were keeping a secret that would destroy everything. it was that you didn’t want to stop. you didn’t want to let him go, even though you knew you should. even though every moral fiber in your being screamed at you to end it, to put the pieces back together before it was too late.

but how could you leave when he looked at you like that? like you were the only person who had ever truly seen him?

how could you leave when his voice trembled as he whispered your name, when his hands shook as they traced over your skin, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go?

how could you leave when, for all his flaws, for all the mistakes he had made, he was still the boy you loved?

“you should hate me,” you whispered one night, your voice breaking as the words tumbled out. the two of you were lying in bed, tangled together in the darkness. his arm was draped over your waist, his breath warm against your neck. “you should hate me for doing this. for not stopping it.”

he didn’t answer at first. his hold on you tightened, his fingers digging into your side like he was trying to keep you there, trying to stop you from slipping away.

“i could never hate you,” he said finally, his voice barely audible. “even if I should.”

your chest ached, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a thousand bricks.

you wanted to believe him. god, you wanted to believe him. but the guilt was always there, a constant reminder of the line you had crossed, the trust you had broken.

you didn’t know if you deserved happiness. not when it came at the expense of someone else’s pain. but when he held you like this, when he whispered your name like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to this world, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

because no matter how wrong it was, no matter how much it hurt, you loved him.

and maybe that made you just as horrible as they thought he was.

taglist! @pagelets, @jettithink, @killa-1009, @j-ji-jia, @frankghgr, @dawngyu @unusuallyunlikelyfox @sxmmerberries @napipope-ta <3 (click here if you would like to be added ^_^)

[causenessus]

hi! i'll keep this short

i came to the realization everytime i've disappeared from tumblr to "take a break" i never really have because of other things going on in my life (which, duh, this isn't my whole life) but! i also realized that if i never actually take the time to recover and rest and think about things i should be writing i'll never feel better. so! i'm (once again)(but now more formally) going on hiatus until maybe may! i might pop in for spring break or earlier if i feel like it, but until then, not really any writing from me! with that being said, i'll still be around, doting on my moots (i.e. like, dorothea <3 wyr <3 and bug <3) because i love them so much and i will probably also post chapters of present ever so often! the reason being (i'm going to try to make this make sense but it may only make sense to me but i'm aware of how contradicting i am to me five seconds ago when i said i need to take a break from writing) present is a very personal fic for me that i've worked on for years at this point. what i'm posting now are chapters i wrote months ago after I've read over and edited them (or in the case of the upcoming chapter, i did randomly add it in and had to write it from the ground up last week lmao) but if it isn't obvious, present is a work i'm very passionate about and am just posting in case anyone else enjoys it but it feels like it's a work that is very individualized just for me and it doesn't cause me any stress or anxiety. on the topic of individualization, although i am of course so so thankful for all of the support and people that follow me, i do sort of miss when my blog and world were a lot smaller. it's something i feel like i only get when i get to reply to people in comments, but other than that, all the numbers and people on my feed give me a lot of anxiety. the hq (smau fandom especially) fandom or at least how much i'm (was) involved in it has grown exponentially and of course i'm happy about that but it's a bit too much for me. i'll be taking a huge step back from the fandom and any hq works i've written at least in the meantime, but that's not to say they'll never be finished! but i either need to grow to handle the bigger audience that now reads my works or wait for things to grow a little smaller again :) i hope to still be able to read my moots works but forgive me if it takes me a bit or i never get to them! i think at the least i'll still like them to show my support <3 thank you if you read my long ramble! i love you all <3

oh also i'll probably post self ship moodboards and the beginning of my reading list (thank you again dorothea for the idea <3)! but again, I think you get the idea by now; I want to go back to doing this for me! so this is a tiny little goodbye now i'm leaving for you all with forehead kisses and flowers and love notes and mwah <3 i'll see you around!

[baxxartist]

A short story based on @aychama 's royal au and comic.

Part 1 Part 2 here

Part 3 here

(thank you for being an inspiration, your art and story is amazing and this has been on my mind forever)

✨Disclaimer✨

THIS IS VERY MUCH NOT CANNON FOR EITHER AUs

I do not speak for the creator

This is a fan creation of a fan creation. I do not expect this to ever be cannon and please never treat it as such.

I am writing this on my phone, instead of sleeping, so this will very likely be bad writing and under researched.

If you don't like oc x cannon in any universe, keep scrolling

Ari was watching from afar, he's been a loyal servant since he could remember. Abandoned by his nobal family due to being a hybrid, despite this Ari still did his best to hide his horns and wool-like fur mostly to blend in. Ari is trying to avoid harassment, but his family essentially wiped their hands clean of him...accept for his grandmother. Who took Ari into her care, despite it causing her to be disowned herself, and through many trials and errors. She got a job as one of Narinder's servants and trained Ari so he would be able to support himself after she died. Landing the job as her replacement quickly as all he ever knew was to serve.

He's been loyal...well despite occasionally sneaking off to meet with his "siblings" who are more his close friends. Sal, the oldest is an advisor of Shamura, Kay, is one of Kallamar's husbands, Harper, she's mostly in charge of the farms and villages ensuring they're all running properly, and Levi, the youngest, who was sent by Shamura to protect Leshy and to act as a guard. Despite this Levi acts more as a guide and personal serveant

They all taught Ari most of what he knows now, though most of his knowledge he keeps to himself. Despite being a skilled fighter and having a vast knowledge on medicine, scavenging, and hunting. He only plans to say something if needed.

Despite Ari trying his best to focus on his work. He kept glancing over at Aym who was sparing with a few of the knights. Mentally going over every mistep, wrong swing, bad form. Yeah that's why, he was looking for weaknesses in the knights that needed improving...not focusing on Aym, his perfect form, quick thinking...yeah Ari's not looking at him at all.

Ari snaps out of his thoughts, mumbling to himself before continuing his tasks for the day, though occasionally his eyes wonder back to Aym. He smirks seeing many struggle against Aym. "He's easy if you watch him long enough and not focus on him..." Ari mumbles as he felt his face getting red as he snaps his thoughts back to his tasks. "That's completely ridiculous, I'm a servant. I shouldn't know any of this" Ari says softly to himself, but he can't help but want to spar. But doing so could make things very bad for him as this is knowledge he's never told anyone he has.

Ari tried to get his mind of what was essentially the kingdoms military leader, before getting flustered again. Aym was so nice every time they interacted, speaking occasionally when they were younger.

Later that afternoon, as Ari finished his tasks, he snuck off into he forest. Occasionally he'd travel to the more monster ridden lands, but that was more for a day off. So for now he made his way to a clearing a good distance from the kingdom before reaching into a tree stump, confused. He kept the sword his grandmother gave him...the only sign of his noble heritage...now gone? He panicked, no one could've known about that until Ari heard a voice behind him.

"Looking for this?" Aym asks, his tone dark, protective. Ari knew he was screwed as he turned around, looking at the sword in Aym's hands. A silver handle with a red gemstone, protected by a leather sheath, prayer and symbols of protection and strength in an ancient language.

Ari knew he was fucked, if only he could think of an explanation

[levis-poison-is-my-medicine]

Still Sick

(The Tea Lovers Pt. 11)

A Levi x reader fanfic

Crossposted from AO3

Everything was as usual. So why were you trembling?

tags: fluff and humor, silly and sweet, tea-obsessed fem!reader with their head in the clouds (word count: 4.4k)

(Part one) / (Levi x reader Masterlist)

You were standing in front of Levi's office, hand raised to knock, but for some reason, it refused to move. Instead of closing the distance between you and the door, like you wanted it to, your hand was shaking like a leaf caught in a storm. A very wet storm, since your palm was also sweating like crazy.

This had never happened to you before.

It was teatime, and normally you couldn't wait to get inside to enjoy some of that leafy goodness together. Normally.

But after yesterday, things were anything but normal.

A lot of things had happened. You'd dislocated your shoulder in a near-death experience with a Titan – the wooden training dummy type, but still – and had to be rescued by Levi, squashing your dignity even further. You'd then gotten yourself into a serious discussion with him over your participation in the next expedition. But none of that even came close to the realization that had hit you that evening: the small fact that you were in love with Levi Ackerman.

Needless to say, things were different now.

Like your heart thudding in your ears louder than a Titan's footsteps, or your arm no longer responding to your brain's commands. (There were no excuses. It wasn't even the one you'd dislocated.)

You took a deep breath. You could do this, like you had a million times before. It was just teatime. You loved teatime.

"For tea," you said, squaring your shoulders. Once again, you raised your fist into the air, moving it toward the door with all the momentum your newfound courage had bestowed upon it, and–

The door swung open.

Levi stood there, looking thoroughly unimpressed as your fist stopped just short of his face.

"The tea's getting cold," he said dryly. You could feel his breath on your hand as it awkwardly hovered there, inches away from his mouth.

You cleared your throat and quickly dropped your hand. But now you didn't know what to do with it. It just dangled at your side, suddenly feeling more like an alien appendage than a body part. You fidgeted with your sling, trying to look casual, though everything about you screamed not casual at all.

"Um," you croaked. Your mouth was dry as parchment. A currently empty parchment, for words were eluding you. It didn't help that Levi kept looking at you with that cool gaze of his, his expression as flat as ever, betraying nothing.

"I..." You started again. You swallowed. "Sorry for being late. I was busy writing the report about yesterday, and kind of lost track of time, and–"

"It's fine," Levi said dismissively. "Come in."

You nodded, trudging after him into his office, your feet heavy.

You sat down across from him at your usual spot and watched him fill up your cup with his usual smooth precision. Yes – everything was as usual. And yet. The silence between you felt heavy, somehow, like it was weighed down by all the unsaid words piling up inside of you. It was a strange, unfamiliar feeling. Before yesterday, you'd always been able to say what was on your mind; now it felt like something was holding you back.

It was probably the irrational fear that, no matter what you tried to say, the words slipping out of your mouth would be I'm in love with you instead. A confession you definitely weren't ready to make. Not until you knew how he felt about you – which was probably going to be never. Unless you asked him. Should you ask him?

You looked up nervously, only to find Levi staring at you, his brows slightly raised as he studied you. Was it because you were acting weird? Were you acting weird? You shifted awkwardly in your seat.

He gave a slight nod in the direction of the teacup still sitting on the table in front of you, untouched. "You don't want your tea?"

"Oh." You felt your face heat up. "Of course."

You reached for the cup with trembling fingers, causing it to rattle against the saucer in a staccato of tiny clickety-clinks. The shaking made the tea slosh around precariously.

You tried to steady it, but with only one hand, it was impossible – some tea spilled over the edge and onto the table. You winced. You knew how much he valued cleanliness. "I'm so sorry."

Levi calmly pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped up the mess, then shot you a look. "You okay?"

"Me?" You asked, still flustered. "Oh. Yeah. I'm okay. Totally."

You took a sip of what remained of your tea and promptly choked on it, making you cough violently.

"Totally fine, clearly," Levi deadpanned.

"Couldn't be… better," you wheezed, trying to catch your breath.

For some reason, Levi didn't look too convinced.

You avoided his scrutinizing gaze, suddenly very invested in ridding your sling from every last piece of lint, both real and imaginary.

Had teatime always been this long? You glanced at the clock on the wall. It hadn't even been ten minutes. You bit your lip, the silence growing more unbearable with every passing second. You should say something – anything – to get him talking, but what?

"Do–" you started, nearly choking on the words. "Do you like cats?"

"Yes," Levi replied, giving you absolutely nothing to work with.

"Cool," you said lamely.

Argh! The tension made you want to tear out all your hair.

You tried again. "So… What do you like about them?"

A pause. "They're clean, and quite independent."

"Kinda sounds like you, doesn't it?" You chuckled nervously.

"If you say so." But there was a slight, almost imperceptible quirk to the corners of his mouth, making your heart stop, then flutter back to life at double the speed. What was he doing to your body? This couldn't be healthy. Any longer, and you might go into cardiac arrest. You had to find a way to get out of here, quickly.

Determined, you grabbed ahold of your cup, managing to finish what was left without spilling another drop. It would be suspicious if you didn't have a second, though. You held out your cup, white-knuckling the handle in an iron grip to stop it from shaking. "Could I get some more, please?"

"Sure." You watched him pour the steaming liquid into your cup. As soon as he lifted the pot, you pulled the cup away and downed it without wasting a second.

This was going better than you had expected. You'd actually be able to pull off your usual three.

You held out your cup again. "Hit me up." Levi snorted but poured you another.

You gulped it down in one go. Before you could stop yourself, you shot Levi a quick glance, just long enough to catch the raised eyebrow, then quickly dropped your gaze to your knees.

"This was great," you began stiffly. "As always. But I should probably get going now. Still got some important… reporting to do. Yep. I really have to get back to my report. So… This was great. Did I say that already? Because it was. Great. Anyway…" You shot up so quickly, you almost toppled over the chair.

Levi looked up at you with narrowed eyes. It seemed like he was about to say something, but before he had a chance to get a word in, you quickly continued. "See you tomorrow." You gave him an awkward wave as you speed-walked to the door. "Or maybe at dinner. Who knows, right?" Definitely not going to happen. There was no way you'd get any food down with him in your line of sight. You'd have to sit at the other end of the mess hall, with your back to him. There was no other option, at least not at the moment.

But it had to get better eventually, right? You'd get used to your feelings, and everything would go back to normal. Yes. You nodded as you pulled open his office door and swiftly stepped outside, resisting the urge to look back. It just had to.

The door closed behind you with a thud, the sweet sound of a wooden barrier falling into place to protect you from the root of your racing heart. Your shoulders sagged as you leaned against it, a soft sigh escaping your lips.

Was being in love supposed to be this exhausting?

– –

Just as you'd planned, you managed to avoid Levi at dinner. You weren't so lucky at breakfast, though. Your roommates hadn't been particularly taken with your suggestion of switching things up for a change of scenery, and sadly your usual seat was a prime spot for Levi-viewing. (Definitely not by coincidence either, since both Lynne and Petra, who were regulars at your table, appreciated the front-row view of Levi in all his glory.)

But they had it easy. Their appreciation showed in admiring glances and little giggles.

Yours, on the other hand, turned you into a menace – your knife slipped from your sweaty grip multiple times, almost impaling the legs of your innocent seatmates. (It was a butter knife. But still.)

It was nerve-racking. You were almost relieved when it was time for your meeting with the commander to discuss the-near-death-by-dummy incident.

Erwin beckoned you inside. "Take a seat."

You did, fiddling with your sling as you waited for the commander to speak. But he remained silent, his stern gaze fixed on you, as if he were expecting you to say something first.

So you cleared your throat and began. "I sincerely apologize for my carelessness during training. As written in the report, I was distracted by a personal matter. There are no excuses, and it won't happen again. I promise the matter is… taken care of. I figured it out after a talk with Hange." Well, kind of taken care of. But as long as you steered clear from Levi, there should be no further distractions.

Erwin acknowledged your apology with a curt nod. "As you should now understand, what happened is far from a laughing matter. The training is designed to simulate the experience of a mission as closely as possible. Full attention is a prerequisite, just as it is on a real expedition. Just one moment of carelessness can cost you your life, like it almost did for you. You experienced it firsthand, so you understand why distractions can and will not be tolerated."

You swallowed. "Yes, sir. I understand."

Erwin lifted a thick eyebrow, clearly surprised by your unexpected formality. It was unlike you, but given the seriousness of the situation, you'd felt it was called for. For a moment, neither of you said a word. His forehead creased as he studied you, as if testing your sincerity. Finally, he gave a small nod.

"After careful consideration, I have decided that, based on your performance on past missions, you will be allowed to take part in the next expedition."

A wild grin formed on your lips, and you were ready to burst out with a spate of thanks, but Erwin held up a hand, signaling he wasn't done yet.

"However, I need you to understand that this is a preliminary decision, pending your performance during the next forest training. You will be closely monitored and evaluated before I make the final decision. But I trust you learned your lesson and will be fully present mentally."

"You bet!" You exclaimed full of enthusiasm. "I will give it my all, just like I do on missions. Thank you for your trust, I promise I won't disappoint!"

Erwin scrubbed a hand over his face, but there was a smile playing at the corners of his lips. Put at ease, you continued your chatter. "Honestly, I'm so relieved. A scout wouldn't be a scout without venturing beyond the walls. Kind of like a bird with no wings." You gestured to the wings of freedom emblazoned on his uniform jacket. "So I'm glad you decided to give me a chance. Being left behind at headquarters would've felt so… wrong. And kind of lonely, too."

Erwin rubbed his chin. "I see what you mean. The expeditions are what set us apart from the rest of the military, our defining purpose. And frankly, we can't afford to leave behind good soldiers. We need every man we can get."

You beamed at him. "You can definitely count on me!"

He regarded you warmly. "You certainly have the right spirit."

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Erwin called.

Levi stepped inside, carrying a few documents. Just the sight of him made your heart lurch in your chest.

"Ugh, nowhere's safe from him," you mumbled under your breath. Erwin shot you a strange look.

Flustered, you sprang to your feet. "Thanks again for the great talk. I promise I won't let you down. I'll leave you two to it, then."

You scrambled past Levi toward the door, almost tripping in your haste to escape. Your heart, too, seemed to stumble with each frantic beat. If just seeing him had this kind of effect on you, how could you possibly survive teatime today? There was just no way.

– –

It was a quarter to four. You were pacing through your room, trying to walk off the nervous energy that coursed through your veins like the concentrated essence of one hundred cups of tea. It was a last ditch effort, part of the strategy you'd come up with to get through teatime with Levi – to be so exhausted, you'd have no other option but to be calm.

It wasn't working in the slightest. Despite taking over chores left and right all day, you were still brimming with energy. You'd even volunteered to clean the stables, groom all the horses, pick every single last hoof – all one-handed. And yet, here you were, ready to run all the way to the capital on foot if only it would get you out of having to face Levi today.

It seemed like he mobilized energy reserves you didn't even know you had. Maybe Hange should investigate this phenomenon – it could help humanity gain the upper hand over the Titans. Endless energy by way of Levi.

You let out a deep, dramatic sigh and plopped down on a chair. This wasn't working. At this rate, Levi would find out something was up. After all, he was the most observant person you knew. And even worse, he might realize what it was, and then…

And then what? You had no idea. But it couldn't be good. Maybe he wouldn't want to have teatime together anymore. The thought made your stomach clench painfully, and you exhaled hard. If only you were better at hiding your feelings. You could already picture what would happen if you didn't get your emotions in check: At best, the victim of the inevitable nervous breakdown would be a tea cup, dropped from your sweaty hand. At worst, it would be you, after your heart had finally decided to give out under the pressure. Either way, disaster was guaranteed. How could you possibly prevent that?

Time to come up with another strategy.

You started pacing again, walking back and forth along the wall lined with shelves that held your collection of teapots. Your gaze landed on one, and without thinking, you traced the rough surface with your fingertips, feeling the jagged edges where the pieces had been painstakingly glued back together. It couldn't hold tea anymore, yet it had grown to be your favorite. Not really knowing why, you'd always felt a strange warmth in your chest just by looking at it.

Now you realized it was because it reminded you of Levi. He'd been the one to fix it for you after you had accidentally shattered it, no questions asked. Because this was the kind of person he was. Unfailingly reliable. Kind, even if he acted grumpy about it. Just thinking about him made you smile. It was strange how long it had taken you to realize how you felt about him. But now, you couldn't think of anything else. His voice. His hair. The way he'd looked at you in the forest when he'd found you. The feeling of his arms around you when you had shared a horse, your back against his chest. Warm. Safe.

You pressed your hands to your heart, trying to stop it from fluttering, but it was no use. Ugh. He was an even stronger stimulant than black tea. Maybe this should be your new strategy, then: getting used to him the same way a body got used to a drug, by slowly and carefully increasing the dosage – little by little, until even large amounts had no effect anymore.

"Yes, that could totally work," you mumbled to yourself. But that also meant you had to start with small doses. Teatime was off the table for now – no need to risk an overdose.

You cracked your knuckles, walked to the table, and got out at sheet of paper. Operation ' Levi-tolerance induction' was a go.

– –

You tiptoed to his office door, the piece of paper clutched in your clammy fingers. It read: Can't make it to teatime today. Not feeling well. Sorry for the short notice! It was the best you'd been able to come up with in the limited time you'd had.

You reached the door, quickly glancing left and right to make sure the coast was clear. Crouching low, you slid the piece of paper under the door, then shot back up and made a run for it.

Just as you turned the corner, you heard the door open. He was fast, like you'd expected. You fought the reflex to peek around the corner to see his reaction. You had to be strong and walk on. It was the only way for your plan to work. "Small doses," you whispered. "Small doses."

You skipped dinner to make your excuses seem more believable, drawing from your supply of tea biscuits to avoid going hungry.

At breakfast, you did your best to look as lethargic as possible. It wasn't so easy to look ill while simultaneously stuffing your face, but you gave it your all. You needed to stock up on energy, since the step-by-step plan called for only one encounter with Levi on the first day, meaning you'd have to skip dinner again.

During your designated Levi-exposure time, however, the idea was to look at him as much as possible to build your tolerance. This didn't turn out to pose as much of a challenge as you'd thought – you couldn't seem to stop yourself from staring at him, anyway. How could a person look this good while simply buttering a slice of bread? It shouldn't be legal. Seeing him work out would probably be the end of you. Luckily, you wouldn't be exposed to that just yet.

Because of your arm, the only training you were assigned to at the moment was stamina training – for today, that meant training together with squad Mike, so you'd be able to avoid Levi then. But you already feared for your heart when it would inevitably be squad Levi's turn.

For teatime, you slid another paper under his door – Can't make it. Still sick. – then fled the scene again. All that stamina training was really paying off.

You kept this up for days, strategically avoiding Levi while gradually increasing your exposure. It seemed to be working, but it also felt a little lonely. This was the longest you'd gone without talking to him since you'd met, and teatime alone in your room just didn't feel the same.

Fortunately, you wouldn't have to stick it out much longer. According to your plan, today would be the last day of skipping your shared tea.

As you walked down the hallway towards Levi's office, a small smile tugged at your lips. "Just one more day," you whispered, tightening your grip on the note in your hand. Still sick.

You hadn't realized how much you'd missed him, despite seeing him every day. It just wasn't the same without talking to him.

You crouched down in front of his door the same way you always did, but this time, the moment felt almost solemn. With a final nudge, you pushed the note underneath it.

The door flew open in an instant, and before you could even think of running away, he had already pulled you inside. Levi. You stared at him, wide-eyed with shock.

"I know you're not sick," he said, his hand still closed around your wrist. "You were at training every single day, so that can't be it. Something's wrong. Tell me what it is."

His gaze seared into your face, searching it for an answer. Your heart was thudding in your ears, your mind completely blank. All you could do was stare at him like a cornered animal, all thoughts eluding you. You couldn't get one word out. To make things even worse, you started to tremble.

Something flashed over his face, his brow furrowing just slightly. He let go of your wrist and stepped back. "Have some tea, first."

You legs felt numb as you walked over to the table and sat down. He pushed the cup toward you, and you took it, mechanically taking a sip. You still didn't know what to say. I'm head over heels for you, so I was trying to build up a tolerance, which clearly hasn't worked, because I'm still a nervous wreck around you. You couldn't possibly say that. It was your first time keeping words inside like that, consciously holding them back. It was almost painful for you. You really were sick. Lovesick.

Your eyes flicked up to Levi's face. He was still looking at you. His eyebrows were drawn together in a frown. You were so tense, you almost flinched when he started speaking again.

"You seem to be avoiding me. Why?"

"I–" you started. You wrung your hands, trying to come up with a plausible excuse. Levi waited for you to continue, but you still couldn't think of something to say. You just sat there, miserably staring at your hands.

"Is it because of what I said about you staying behind for the next expedition?"

Your eyes snapped to his. "What? No."

"Then why?"

"It's… It's not like I'm angry with you or anything. I'm sorry if I made you think that. It's just that…" You exhaled a shaky breath. "Can I...ask you something?"

"Sure."

"… What do you love most in this world? For me, I always thought it was tea but…" You trailed off. "Anyway, you don't have to answer this right now, just picture it in your head. And now, this next part is hypothetical, but…" You nervously played with your sling. "If a fire broke out here, and everyone else had already evacuated, but I was still inside, passed out from the smoke… What do you save? Me or… Your dust rag, or whatever. Whatever you love most." The last part was a lame attempt at a joke, but you didn't dare look up to see his reaction.

Levi snorted. "That's a stupid question."

You swallowed. Of course it was.

"Of course I would save you."

You jerked your head up. "You would?"

Levi nodded, his eyes fixed on you. You felt your face heat up under the intensity of his gaze.

"You… You can only save one, though, I forgot to say that part."

"Still you."

"Oh." Oh. Your breath caught. Did that mean…?

"It wasn't much of a choice," Levi muttered, his voice low and raspy, as if the words had been caught in his throat.

Your eyes widened. Your body started to tingle all over. Levi felt the same…?

You noticed the way he was looking at you, this strange softness around his eyes, open and raw, everything inside them bared.

He felt the same!

A wild happiness soared in your chest, spreading through you like liquid warmth, making your face light up with the widest, fiercest smile, too powerful to hold back – but you didn't have to hold back anymore.

"I'm so glad you feel the same," you told him, still beaming at him. You felt weightless, like everything pressing down on you had suddenly been lifted.

And there it was, tugging at the corners of his lips – his own quiet smile.

You couldn't sit still anymore, so you got up, but getting up wasn't enough, so you rounded the table, and then you took his hand, because the only way to make it feel enough was to be close to him.

"Levi," you said. He was looking up at you, and you were looking back at him. "I like you more than tea."

"You do, huh."

"Yep. A lot more, actually. Tea never made me this nervous. Not even twenty cups of it."

A pause. His eyes crinkled. "So that's what this was."

You nodded furiously. "I was so nervous, I couldn't think straight. I guess I was worried you wouldn't feel the same." You tugged at his hand, pulling him up to you. "But I'm not nervous anymore."

You pulled him even closer, until there was no distance left between you, your heart beating against his again, just like on the day he had rescued you.

"Not even a little?" he asked, his gaze locked with yours. Levi's palm was warm against your face as he cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing a slow path down your chin. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine.

"Maybe a bit…" Your voice was just a breathy whisper against his lips.

His answer was lost as he closed the distance between you, but you could feel it in the brush of his lips against yours. "Good."

Your eyes fluttered closed, and you let yourself get lost, no longer sure where you started and he ended.

When you opened them again, your tea had long gone cold. You didn't mind. You had something warm right here.

A/n: It finally happened! I can't believe I'm saying this, but the end is fast approaching. The next chapter will be an epilogue, so this actually marks the last full-length chapter of the tea lovers. See you soon <3

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

[pricegouge]

how we feel about call of duty kaiju horror?

(I’m watching a Godzilla movie tonight so✨)

-🫀

it's the fact that you knew exactly what you were doing with each keystroke that's killing me here

vibrating at a speed imperceptible to the human eye: i feel pretty normal about it.

okay i'm at a low point mental-health-slash-hope-in-the-world wise rn which means ofc i've been thinking about my sweet baby puppy, godzilla, a lot recently. just something about a larger than life monster of our own making come to visit hell upon us that's rather apt, you know?

so originally i was just gonna ramble about that as a response to this - and how easily you could plug an elite squad of soldiers into that formula, make them the focus as they fight back against the kaiju. do it kinda like shin godzilla, maybe, where it's more a procedural than anything to highlight the incompetence of their orders - the us versus them, versus it; where the pieces are government/military officials, civilians, and of course the kaiju. and then bring it back around to what they have to resort to to actually get the job done. trusting the people most effected by the actions of their overhead, and all that. which i'm super into, but knew wouldn't necessarily have made for a good fic. and then beloved @stellewriites did what she does best and seduced me into writing a little snippet after suggesting the focus be more on the after-effects, like a cloverfield situation.

and she was fucking right, but unfortunately that's not what i ended up doing here because i saw kaiju horror and blanked out a bit writing an action scene lmao.

shelling, active fire, hand to hand combat. nothing prepares you for something like this.

hell, even falling out of a hele hadn't been this bad - hadn't instilled within him this fear, just before drop, all kitted out and ready for action. as if anything on their persons could actually defend them from the screeching behemoth below. offense had been unofficially deemed hopeless. not even the stealth bombers had done any good, their blast zones only succeeding in creating more debris, more shrapnel. more rubble to bury the first wave of casualties.

they'd been assured there wouldn't be any more bombing, not while there were boots on the ground trying to minimize the growing death toll, guiding the frantic packs of terrified civilians looking for refuge.

gaz was fairly sure they had told the first deployment the same thing.

it's a struggle not to assess his team, so he doesn't fight it. takes in their expressions as they hang out the open side of the blackhawk, faces underlit by flame and heat. they look grim, worse than he's ever seen them. but cap's voice is still his standard surly growl over the comms when he tells nik to bring them closer to the… thing.

ghost is the only one brave enough to question him. "price?"

"just want a better look," the captain grumbles, as if the scale of it could even allow for some sort of misunderstanding.

"it's a big ass lizard, cap," gaz supplies, unable to hold his tongue as the creature looms closer, nik's steady hand bringing the hele up and over its head, outside of the range of its relatively short arms. "what more do you need to see?"

price eyes him, chill of his gaze turned gunmetal in the thin light. a warning. "don't know enough about it to be fightin' it."

"are we fightin' it then, cap?" soap, borderline hopeful. like he thinks he can save the world with a well-placed sticky bomb, even after everything he's seen.

"you saw what it did in pari -!"

price cuts him off. "might have to. should know more about it."

like it's got an achilles' heel they'll be able to spot while dropping, their flare lights casting a grim red glow over the mountainous mass of plates and scales. they ring it as best they can - a valiant effort to keep their paracords untangled. from each other, from the mess of wires clinging to the skeleton frames still standing. from it. gaz lucks out, manages to draw its head. his flare light casts eerie shadows on the smoke behind it, jagged cuts of spiny bone that reach like fingers skyward, as if to pluck the circling hele from the air like no more than a noisome fly hanging over head. there's a gradual slope across a heavy brow, its face wide-set and surprisingly flat, as if evolution knew it wouldn't be snuffling around in the dirt for food no matter what hellish recesses of the earth it had crawled out of. he sees the teeth first, blanched and deadly in a mouth that gapes slightly, soft pink tissue glinting with drool in the wan, flickering light. the shape of it seems to shift in the smoke, disorienting in its incomprehensibility. gaz tracks the nose - up, in, across -

the eye rolls, a ring of sclera giving it an unexpected humanity. it's beady, the iris the same dark, muddy sort of gray that blends with the rest of its plating. defensive evolutionary traits. against what, gaz did not want to know. it flickers red and orange in the light. alive, wary. a thick nictitating membrane draws back, reveals a depth of color which can't quite hide the pupil - nor the way it dilates, trained on him.

it ducks his head as he falls, assessing just as much as gaz is. he reaches for his gun, automatic, and the ridge of brow above its eyes twitches, lowers. there's a series of pops, loud enough to hear even above the thunder of air in his ears, and then a light flickers to life in its gullet, electric blue and feeble in its infancy.

debrief hadn't mentioned bioluminescence. he decides he does not want to be the first one to find out what that's about.

tipping himself forward, he propels himself faster. his angle widens, brings him around the creature's side a bit, out of its field of view. he follows along its broad flank, dipping past huge, clawed hands which curl as if in disgust as he passes. he pulls his chute somewhere around its hip, tries to plot his land despite his general lack of visibility. he's just settled on a gap in the buildings up ahead when the air stirs, a quick updraft that rocks him where he hangs, sending smoke swirling as something slices through it, maybe twenty meters above the ground. he keeps his eyes peeled for another jumper, cautious about mixed lines even though he should still be well away from soap's position.

but it's not another jumper. he sees it first in the reflection of a busted window, shatter-proof glass left hanging concave in its frame. light catches in it, a sporadic wisp refracting through the crumple points, pulsing with movement. electric blue.

he casts about for its source, finds it off to his right. it slips through the air like a knife, smooth and deadly enough to have him running through a list possible drone types he may have run afoul of. he comes up short, though he wouldn't be surprised to learn they'd resorted to test tech. last thing he needs, though he doesn't start to seriously worry until another one appears, just slightly larger, moving in sync with the first. they arch out and around to his left just as another flickers to light directly before them. again, slightly larger than the last - though maybe a little bit closer to it as well.

the next one is heralded by a quiet humming, low enough he thinks he's imagining things until his feed starts crackling with static. he pulls his cords so he can face it more fully, and the chain of lights whip away from him, circle back behind the creature with enough force to shift the air again, unexpected draft pulling him up, up.

the beast faces him, turned fully with a deadly kind of silence kyle hadn't expected. its mouth hangs agape, faint blue light leaking from between its teeth, painting the surrounding smoke blue until it looks like xenon breath, just as fatal. the aura seems to build around it, and it takes gaz much too long to realize its being backlit, the strange lights gathering behind it until the smoke all around glows blue and white and it bows, sinks to his level with an open maw. the light in its throat crystallizes into a cold white while building in intensity, lock step with the intimidation display climbing over its shoulders, the massive plates there flickering to life, veined with phosphorescence.

he'd be nowhere in life if he hadn't learned to listen - when needed, at least.

suspended as he is, his options are limited. he yanks at cords that do nothing, the air gone so still in the creature's deadly silence that it won't even let him fall. like a vacuum, just waiting for the collapse.

"fuck. shit," he hisses, panic building.

the thing shakes its head, an audible rumble building alongside the deafening hum of static. gaz pulls his emergency release and feels his stomach fall before he does, tumbling away after it with flailing limbs, unable to even right himself into a controlled dive before he's catching his full weight on his shoulder, the composite hull of a hele groaning under his mass before the world tilts sideways once more, flops him onto his stomach where his cheek grinds into dirt and metal runners.

"flare!" a thick accent calls from over head, and kyle has just enough wits about him to recognize that the thick trail of red crawling along the floor of the hele is coming from him. he draws a knee up, hands swatting uselessly at himself in search of the strap that keeps the flare tied to his ankle, smoke filtering through his mask until he's -

it's hard to tell what happens first, the blinding light or the g-force which crashes into the hele from above - pushes it down even as he stays in place, colliding with the ceiling hard enough to knock the remaining wind out of him. alarms erupt all over the dash, the noise of them blotted out by a stillness in his ears, as if they'd been submerged - an immense pressure against his eardrum which stifles even his own pulse.

until it didn't, sound rushing back in a cacophony of sirens and shrieking metal, the creature's roar only drown out by the dull sound of impact and the sudden build of force that follows, glass shattering as buildings shook and crumbled. nik curses, something in russian. flare smoke builds in the cab but it doesn't even matter, not when the debris outside the windshield is so thick nik can't even see the approaching church until he's almost gone through the belfry. he banks right, hard, and gaz has a panicked moment of free fall as the open door he'd already fallen through twice today rolls to meet him and he slips through it once more, fingers barely even managing to catch on the frame before he's falling again, a two story drop into the blessedly bare church courtyard with a winded huff, vision tunneling as he stares up uncomprehendingly at the streak of light that's pierced the sky, the burning after-image of a gale force he simply has no framework for.

when he wakes up, it's to a world on fire.

if anyone is interested in that kinda post apocalyptic world, lmk. i don't wanna do any sort of series here but kaiju are my lifelong hyperfixation so i'm always happy to ramble about this sort of setting :)

[hustling-starley]

Even with Ame describing herself as some bottomless pit of darkness, only able to consume, Harley hardly seems phased by it. In fact, she's reminded of a description she'd see on an emo or goth girl's short biography that they'd write on their own, customizable websites. Back before the days of social media, when the internet was still an exciting novelty just brimming with possibility. While it isn't completely lacking in that, it's impossible to deny that the internet has changed drastically since the days of Harley and Ame's infancies.

Besides, being provocative is the easiest method of gaining attention. Attention means you live in someone's mind for just that little bit longer, allowing the feeling of sweet, sweet significance to please a sad soul.

"Who says you need to be perfect? I don't want some dumb fairy tale, I've heard enough of them for one lifetime." She replies, casual as ever. "Why do you think I came here in person, instead of just letting you blow up my phone? I want something, someone real. And if there's an abyss waiting for me, then I'll grab a diving board to get a good jump in."

She cheers at Ame's exclamation, clapping her hands in glee. "Yessss! Girl's night, girl's night, girl's night!" She chants, bouncing up and down. "Let's get it on!"

Excited, both for their sleepover and for this new side of Ame she's seeing, she eagerly follows Ame to her room. For once, it's Ame who's taking her by the hand to new places, instead of the other way around. She really does open up a lot more like this, huh?

Once they step into Ame's room, Harley places the duffle bag on the side next to Ame's bed. She takes a moment to look around, almost enchanted by all the different merchandise and posters laid out on the shelves and walls. Even her bed has a silk curtain hanging above it, windows decorated with frills and bows, and heart-shaped balloons. That's hardly even mentioning the comfy, cushy rug on the floor, or the big, fluffy pillows splayed across her bed.

So entranced, she almost doesn't notice the bits of trash strewn about.

"Would definitely be worthy of royalty... Well, if you cleaned up a bit better." She teases, before she opens up the bag and reveals the snack selection. It consists of fruit gummies, milk chocolates and dark chocolates, 2 flavors of potato chips, and some strawberry mochi. "While you're digging in, tell me what we're working with. What kinds of streaming service do you have? Or did you wanna try one of my CDs?"

Harley's surprised that it doesn't take Ame longer to open the door, but she's hardly complaining about that. What she will complain about, is the potent smell of weed coming from her and the apartment itself. It's enough to make her cough a little, before she laughs.

"Woooow, you were smokin' up a storm, huh? Are you trying to be the biggest streamer in the world or the biggest smoker?"

She giggles, stepping inside the small space while she takes off her shoes and her jacket, revealing her sleeveless shirt along with the scars along her shoulder and her back.

Upon Ame's question, she simply skips closer to her, making sure Ame's eyes don't leave hers. If Ame needs her, she'd better appreciate every second that she's here.

"Because I'm borrrreeeed! You were the only one available, and even if you weren't, I've been wanting to see you again! Every time I hang out with you, I learn a little more about you. I wasn't lying when I said you were interesting, you know?" To prove that Ame was not allowed to go back on her decision in return, she circles around her, looking her up and down. If there's anything Harley is a master at, it's making her presence known.

"I wanna crack your head open like an egg and see what goes on in there! And what better way to get you out of your mind and have some fun thaaaaan…"

She verbally imitates the sound of a drumroll as she steps over to the couch in the living room. Setting the duffle bag down on it, she unzips it to reveal several small bags of snacks, some drinks, a Wii alongside some controllers, a few different games, some DVDs, and at least 2 sets of clothes.

"A girl's night! It'll be you and me 'til tomorrow morning! Better put those stream plans on hold, because if I'm not leaving, you're not streaming!"

She's genuinely excited, in spite of the absolute abysmal state of Ame's apartment. Honestly, she hardly even cares about all the trash, at least until it gets in the way of whatever activities they'll be doing. Lord knows she was as tired as this when she finally got out of the hospital. 6 months was practically a prison sentence, even if it was for recovery.

"So! What do you wanna do first, Tsuki-chan?"

[someforeignband]

there's red & green everywhere (but i'm so blue) WC: 1.8k this is for all the christmas haters who have partners that are christmas lovers

Theoretically, Eddie should hate Christmas. It’s an amalgamation of everything he stands against, from organized religious celebration to conformism to capitalist gift-buying bullshit.

And, it’s not like Steve hates Christmas. It wasn’t like that, he swears it’s not. But, this year he didn’t even bother pulling decorations from storage because he knew his parents weren’t coming home.

And that was that, the garland and tree and mistletoe could stay boxed up in the garage. Steve wouldn’t have to worry about breaking his back to decorate the house. He had a partner that not only loved him, but liked him, so he didn't have to worry about impressing someone with unrealistic expectations of him.

For the first Christmas ever, Steve was without obligations.

Christmas might, for once, not be a massive disappointment if he didn’t spend the next few weeks building up excitement for something that would never happen.

It should’ve all been fine and dandy, should’ve been good. Steve could rest easy knowing there wasn’t anything he had to do in preparation for the holiday season.

But, to Steve’s absolute shock and horror: Eddie Munson loves Christmas.

Eddie loves Christmas in a way that he actually owns a copy of Frank Sinatra's Christmas album on tape and apparently keeps it in his car year round. Eddie loves Christmas in a way that means he has a whole box of recipes reserved just for the Christmas season. He loves Christmas in a way that means that he goes all in, just like he does with anything else Eddie loved.

The Munsons love Christmas in a way that means that Eddie and Wayne have a massive advent calendar that they take time every day to open. The Munsons love Christmas in a way that means that there’s VHS tapes of A Charlie Brown Christmas and It’s A Wonderful Life sitting out just begging to be watched.

Eddie Munson loves Christmas.

So much so, that it pretty much looks like Santa and his Elves exploded all over the northeast corner of Forest Hills Trailer Park.

“Holy shit, Ed,” Steve shakes his head, looking around the trailer in disbelief. “This is crazy.”

“Isn’t it incredible!” Eddie grins, unwrapping another string of multi-colored lights.

“It’s-uh...” Steve stammers, trailing off, sort of dumbfounded by the insane amount of holiday cheer.

Not that he cared that Eddie loved Christmas. It was nice, actually, to see him so excited about something so... normal. Maybe this was a minor re-direction of the current timeline. No biggie.

Except that Steve supposed he’d have to rethink just about everything regarding the upcoming holidays. There’d have to be gift buying, and event planning, and meal prepping, and cleaning, and all of this pressure to do things he's not good at.

He's never been good at holidays, or gifts, or family, or love, or any of that stuff that comes with this time of year.

"Wayne needs some help outside with the lights, he's too old to be up on the ladder." Eddie calls over his shoulder, having migrated across the trailer to top the tree with an angel.

"Do you mind helping him out?"

"Oh-uh... No, no not at all. I got it." Steve murmurs, backing toward the door, still reeling from seeing Eddie like this.

Wayne greets him outside, smiling, nose red from the early December air.

"He's serious?" Is all Steve can say, exasperated, breath fogging up in front of him.

"As a heart attack, son," Wayne shrugs, grinning. "The kid loves Christmas." "Oh, no, yeah," Steve barks out. "I got that much."

"He's a little intense," Wayne chuckles.

"Got that, too," Steve laughs.

"I think he gets that from his momma," Wayne shrugs.

Steve moves toward the pile of lights and begins untangling. He's still in a near-trance, thoughts swirling, trying to figure out what this meant for Eddie, what this meant for their relationship-

"Don't work too hard over there, boy," Wayne chuckles, plugging a string of lights into an extension cord.

"Oh, I wasn't, I'm just-"

"C'mere," Wayne beckons him over, pointing at the painter's ladder leaned up against the side of the trailer. "Eddie'll lose his mind if I get up there." And so they go about hanging lights, and Steve's so focused on the fact that Eddie likes Christmas to even recognize that he was on a rickety old ladder, that it was higher than he was probably comfortable with, or even that it was cold.

Eddie likes Christmas.

He climbs down from the ladder, shoving hands in his pockets, just looking at Wayne, whose brows were furrowed, mouth all tensed up like he was trying not to cough or something.

"All done," Steve offers, brightly, slapping on a smile.

He's trying, alright. But, the imminent Eddie likes Christmas won't stop screaming at him, like it's a box he can't check.

"You okay, son?" Wayne asks, and it's like all the air gets sucked out of Steve's lungs.

"I don't think I can do Christmas like Eddie does," He confesses before he can stop himself, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

Wayne laughs, shaking his head, resting a hand on Steve's shoulder. "Nobody does Christmas the way Eddie does."

Wayne was entirely too unserious for the situation at hand and was obviously not understanding what Steve was saying.

"I've never really liked Christmas," Steve says quietly, like it's a secret, like he's afraid Eddie will hear. "I just don't want to disappoint him."

Wayne stops laughing, blinking a few times. "Oh, Steve, it's not that big'a deal."

"I didn't even plan on getting him a gift, I didn't even know we were celebrating Christmas, I thought he would hate it."

"Steve," Wayne cuts him off, placing his other hand on Steve's shoulder. "Eddie doesn't care about any of that."

Steve shrugs his hands off, shaking his head. "I just wish I would've known so I could better prepare."

"Prepare for what exactly?" Wayne asks, wetting his lips.

"So I'd do all the things he needs me to do to make Christmas special, you know? Ugly sweaters and presents and baked goods and all of that Christmas crap."

Wayne's eyes flicker downwards, like he's thinking something he's not saying.

"You wish you could've better prepared? To what? Pretend to be somebody you're not?"

"Well," Steve groans. "Don't say it like that."

"Son," Wayne sighs, and his hand is back on Steve's shoulder again. "The most important part of Christmas for Eddie is being with the people he loves. You are what makes Christmas special for him."

It takes everything inside Steve to not roll his eyes, it would be like Wayne to give him the 'Christmas is about love and family' bullshit. From the way it looked inside that damn trailer, like the North Pole had suddenly relocated to Hawkins Indiana, Steve had a snowball's chance in hell of making Eddie's Christmas special.

"The most important present Eddie will get this year is you spending Christmas with us," Wayne presses further.

And this time, Steve can't help it. He feels his eyes roll, ever so slightly. He sighs, giving Wayne a defeated shrug because this guy can not be serious. Did they see the same Eddie inside throwing fistfuls of tinsel onto every free surface?

But, before he can get into all of that, the front door to the trailer is slamming open and Eddie's skipping around all excited, looking at the lights.

God, Steve felt like shit.

"Look, kid," Wayne tries one more time, squeezing Steve's shoulder, pulling his attention back to the task at hand. "Eddie loves Christmas because it helps him be close to the people he loves. Don't go off trying to be somebody else for him, that would ruin the whole damn point."

That would ruin the whole damn point.

"They look so good, you guys!" Eddie grins, feet crunching over frozen leaves as he trots over to Steve and Wayne.

"And, I didn't get on the ladder even once," Wayne grins, eyes flicking between Steve and his nephew.

Something in the middle of Steve's chest tugs, painful but good, like rubbing out a sore muscle or itching at a sunburn.

"I wouldn't let him," Steve offers, end of his mouth twitching up into a soft smile.

"I knew I could trust you," Eddie grins, dimples on full display, cheeks already going red from the winter Indiana air.

Wayne waves a hand, feigning frustration, scoffing. "You both act like I'm a sneeze away from the grave. I'm goin' inside."

He storms away, but Steve knew he wasn't actually upset. His shoulders were shaking in silent laughter as he trudged toward the trailer's front door.

The door slams, and Steve feels Eddie's hand just barely grace his own. They stood a respectable distance apart. Steve's hand tingles from the featherlight touch, and his stomach flutters, watching Eddie look over his shoulder at the lights.

"Thanks for helping him," Eddie whispers, eyes bright and full of pure happiness. "He makes me so damn nervous on that stupid ladder."

Steve nods and a gust of wind makes him shiver, cutting right through him. It was damn cold out, and yet he hadn't noticed.

"Come inside, bug," Eddie gives his hand a quick squeeze. "It's gonna start to snow."

Steve looks up, and almost serendipitously a frozen flake hits his nose.

"Oh," He whispers, wiping his forehead.

Eddie giggles, "C'mon, baby. I was gonna make us some cocoa." He pats Steve's arm gently, nodding towards the trailer.

"I even bought a real gallon of milk for it! No powdered shit."

There's that feeling again, like cracking your knuckles or ripping off a bandaid.

The most important present Eddie will get this year is you spending Christmas with us.

Steve sighs, feeling another flake hit his ear, then another, and then another. He looks at the lights he just spent the better part of the last couple hours hanging, a few of them didn't light up fully, blinking dull and slow.

"Coming," He says, feeling the frozen leaves and grass crumbling under his steps. Eddie's holding the door open for him, grinning ear to ear at him like he was the one who put the angel at the top of the tree.

He picks up his pace, knocking his hip against Eddie's as he shuffles through the door of the Munson's trailer.

You are what makes Christmas special for him.

"I love you," Steve breathes, quiet and hesitant, as soon as the front door closes.

It feels weird, the warm lighting, the smell of hot cocoa on the stove, the Frank Sinatra Christmas album playing in the background.

Sunburns heal. Sore muscles get stretched out. Ripping a bandaid off only hurts for a second, and sometimes you have to crack your knuckles, so your fingers will feel better.

"I love you too, sweetheart," Eddie responds easily, without obligation.

For the first Christmas ever, Eddie had Steve. For the first Christmas ever, Steve was without obligation.

[anna-scribbles]

h-how do you ever finish any of your work? genuine question because you seem to be productive despite your agreste syndrome and I need to learn your ways. but also how do you ever finish any of your work

unclear. last night i stayed up and finished a report worth 25% of my grade at about 5am, arrived on time for my 9am lecture, and spent about half of it zoned out while thinking about seventeen year old emilie agreste. and i was one of the most active participants in the class discussion

[twodiamondhoes]

SLAMS DOOR OPEN hello!!! I hear you're looking for lil ficlet ideas!!

I would love to see your take on jimmy and grians relationship 👀👀👀 I simply wish there was more content of them in the world (shippy or non-shippy!!)

If u would like any additional prompts maybe the aftermath of grian taking jimmy out in wildlife????

No pressure at all if the thought doesnt appeal to you, saluting you so much as a fellow traveller on the writing strugglebus right now. GOOD LUCK!!! <3

Hi Theo!! Welcome in, please have a seat! :D

as for Jimmy & (/) Grian I totally agree, I love their dynamic so much!! Time to be the change we want to see in the world XD

Take my hand, we will get through this rough patch together!! <3333

I haven't actually finished either of their WL POVs (Blasphemous as a self-proclaimed Jimmy Main, I know) so IDK how well I can touch on that one, but I did see that clip of Grian joining their phasmo thing late that's floating around and I lost my mind. Have this modern au?? Phasmo au??? IDK but here you go!

Grian sank deeper into the couch cushions, watching some rerun of an ancient Top Gear episode on the TV in front of him. The sound is so low it might as well be muted in favor of listening to Jimmy off in the kitchen, rummaging around in cupboards as they waited for Joel to arrive.

On the screen, Hammond spun out just in time for Jimmy's voice to peak, some offended crescendo about the story he was telling. Something about someone at work.

For the first time in days, Grian felt his lungs fill, untrapped by the vice of panic or stress. He made some sort of noise in response to Jimmy asking if he could believe all of that. He tried to focus on the words, knowing that Jimmy would be more offended at him not listening than he had been at the lady in his story, but relaxation was stealing over him in waves, pulling the steel and the energy from his limbs the longer he sat there.

Jimmy's voice was much closer when he snorted, placing down a mug on the table in front of Grian. He didn't remember telling him what he wanted in his tea, but the label that spun in front of them was his favorite brew. Warmth steeped through him.

"Budge up," Jimmy said, the words floating down through the syrup of Grian's mind instead of crashing through and jarring him back to consciousness. He shuffled back into a mostly upright position, "are you falling asleep on me?"

“No,”Grian scoffed, leaving Jimmy more than enough time to settle in before he slid sideways again so that he could lean heavily on Jimmy’s shoulder. He hooked a grin up at him. “Now I’m falling asleep on you.”

“You utter-I'm not that boring, am I?” Jimmy groused, reaching for the remote. Grian kicked at the coffee table with his foot, scooting it enough that the remote was out of reach.

“As boring as you always are,” Grian said, if only because he couldn’t seem to untangle the emotions caught in the warm mixture in his chest, at least not in a way where he could pull them apart and explain them to Jimmy. “Maybe I’m just tired,” he said, trying to call up a haughty tone, “maybe it’s got nothing to do with you.”

Jimmy grumbled something more under his breath, but shifted so that Grian was resting comfortably at his side, instead of just smushed against him.

"Go on, then,” Jimmy said, settling back against the armrest so they were both halfway to horizontal. “Joel can wake us up when he gets here.”

Grian hid a smile against Jimmy’s shoulder.

“Glad you see things my way.”

[poetryqueer]

planning document must be going well I just said the words “explaining the endurance of Platonism could be the life I’m living” to myself. Alone. At 2:30am. Because yeah. Could be.

[doctahchang]

would like to know the lore of my own oc that i have had for like ten years

edit: found an old sketch of her... i basically drew her for the first time eons ago and haven't changed her design ever since (sad that i won't be able to find those drawing again)

[theflyingfeeling]

fic talk in the tags 💝

[end-orfino]

ahhhhhh i remember why i dont read comics & books and watch movies as much as I should. Because they make me lose it

[blujayonthewing]

the problem with AI is that it sucks shit but its benefits are actually tangible; every idiot on the block wanted a piece of NFTs and crypto but they still died quickly because they just didn't have legs to get anywhere beyond the immediate unspecific hype, but companies very much can lay off a bunch of artists and writers who take days or weeks or months to work and replace them with a guy who can shit out AI trash in five minutes