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agendabymooner · 9 months

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the hamilton daycare || lh44 fic

lewis hamilton x ofc (hearth sister!ofc)

EXTENSION TO THICK AND THIN

Summary: A retired Lewis Hamilton already knew how to operate while his children’s mother was out to work. So why was their trip to Monaco any different? Right… Much like his in-laws Toto Wolff and Charles Leclerc, he had to find a way to keep his kids occupied while Stevie Hamilton went to Cannes with her sisters. (based on the Charles Leclerc fic, The Leclerc Daycare)

Content warning: dad!Lewis-centric fic, EXTREMELY FLUFF UGH, slight use of explicit language, brief F1 drivers x Hearth Sisters!OFC, mentioned fatherhood, emotional intelligence, and mentions of overbearing media/journalists/shitty paparazzi, feat. dad!Toto Wolff and dad!Charles Leclerc

note: have some dad!lewis hamham <3 enjoy xx

masterlist

Lewis Hamilton disciplined himself to wake up at a decent time in the morning. He’d been retired for a couple of years now, yet his routine as a driver remained except for the practicing for the next race part. In his schedule, two kids were added to the mix.

Who would have thought Lewis was a stay-at-home dad to two of the most adorable kids ever?

If you told him all those years ago that he’d become one, he would’ve laughed at your face. But now, he was pretty content with his life. It was still busy, of course. He still had some side projects that he would work on, but he often worked on them remotely, wanting to keep an eye on his kids as they grow continuously. He didn’t like being away from them as often— knowing that when he raced, he was often away for weeks— even months.

His relationship with Stevie Marlene Hearth remained stable as she worked as a communications director at Ferrari — making their distance shorter than expected. But now, with kids at home, neither ever considered being away for too long.

Stevie could make do as she could work remotely, but if Lewis hadn’t retired just as his eldest was born? Yeah, they would be screwed. He wouldn’t have been able to see his kids as much. He wasn’t about to bear that thought without feeling an ounce of guilt in his system. His wife came from a family with an absent father; he didn’t want their kids to go through that. He would have to be a shitty father first.

And so he made himself the best father that one could be. A househusband was what his sister-in-law Sylvie had called him, and he embraced that title. He was proud to be called a stay-at-home dad. Not everyone got to drop off their kids at the preschool happily, and Lewis had every chance to do so. He welcomed this opportunity with open arms. He did everything a parent would in a domestic household. He cooked, cleaned and cared for their children just as he was about to do now.

Now, it was only 7:30 in the morning in Monte-Carlo. He was moving around the kitchen to prepare some breakfast for his kids and wife while Sylvie helped him cook as compensation for waking him up at six in the morning to open the door to his vacation home.

“Did you feed Sassy and Jimmy?” Lewis asked Sylvie as they prepared the food. “I don’t want Max coming home later tonight to two starving cats because I haven’t fed them enough.”

“They’ve been fed,” Sylvie scoffed out. “I left them some stuff to eat as well. Just please feed them later?”

“I will,” Lewis replied with a nod while he prepared his kids’ breakfast. Blueberry waffles and eggs were their usual breakfast, and it didn’t even take him long to start making their fresh eggs.

“Thanks, Lew,” Sylvie grinned as she plated the cut-up fruits. She took a slice of an apple and munched on it while she said, “Where’s my sister? Did you wake her up yet?”

“Yeah, she should be down soon,” Lewis answered as he gestured towards the second floor, “she’s just getting her bag packed up and everything. You lots always pack a lot for people who’d only be out for a day only.”

“You’re the one to talk,” Sylvie frowned lightly. “We all took the same jet more than twice— don’t think for once I have not seen the pile of suitcases you have on top of Stevie’s mountain full of bags.”

They paused for a moment when they both heard a pattering of small feet, making them look towards the entrance of the open dining and kitchen space as two little figures with tamed curls walked in. Both were frazzled, and Lewis could only smile at the thought that they’d literally just woken up.

“Oh! Lottie, Leland— it’s your Aunt Sylvie,” a blonde woman followed the two as Stevie Hamilton grinned at her sister. “Good morning!”

“Morning,” Sylvie watched her nephew and niece walk up to her with their shoulders slightly slumped. The woman nearly laughed aloud at this as she said, “Is it too early for you two littles?”

“Mornin’, Aun’ie.”

Lewis looked at both of his carbon copies’ hairs. “Lotlot- Leland,” he laughed quietly, “your hair looks very messy. Have we not combed it yet?”

His little princess shied away from the comment, now a bit flustered after Lewis brought up the state of her bedhead.

Lottie Cecelia Darcy Hamilton was born to a newly married Lewis and Stevie — roughly eight months after the couple wedded on Valentine's Day. He’s had a fair experience with kids — with his boss Toto and Lewis’ best friend Tilly having three children and his siblings having their own kids as a test run. But it was different when Lottie was born. It was as if everything he prepared for had disappeared. He was petrified to hold his princess for the first time, but it all disappeared when Lottie offered him a soft smile when he first spoke to her.

He could remember how his eyes were tearing up when she smiled just as he uttered the words, “You’re so beautiful.”

And at age five, she still remained the sweetest girl to have existed. Whenever she’d shy away from anyone, Lewis just wanted to cry, his heart full of adoration towards her. Now, as she hid herself from her dad — he couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty.

“I’m sorry, my girl,” Lewis said softly, not wanting to make his own daughter cry.

He really couldn’t just make his kids cry — he remembered how hard he laughed after Lottie, in her 7th month, accidentally tripped on a sleeping Roscoe. He also reminded himself that Stevie caught him wailing in laughter while Lottie cried. God, he was such a horrid dad at times.

“We can get them done in braids when we hang out, hm?”

Hearing the word ‘braid’ had his son’s eyes sparkling as he exclaimed, “Daddy, hair pretty too?”

“Of course, little man,” Lewis grinned at his son.

“We see Mamé later?” Leland asked, excitement washing through his features as he grinned widely.

Leland Carl Darwin Hamilton was his youngest. Lewis didn’t exactly plan on having his littles’ names have his initials, but Stevie had a knack for tributes like her sisters. He had free reign to name his son after making a bet with Stevie about the gender. He had a few months to think of it, but he was more worried about Stevie’s pregnancy than he was worried about his son getting bullied for his name. Lewis thought of Lewis Jr., but he didn’t want to make his son an extension of his name.

Lewis didn’t have a clue on what to name his son, but the moment Sylvie uttered, “He looks like a Leland,” he couldn’t help but agree and immediately snatched the idea from his in-law. So with his soft curls and his smile, Leland remained as Lewis’ mini.

But if there was anything the retired Mercedes driver had learned from the moment his son had been born, it was that Leland was a twin brother to his Leclerc cousin, who was born a month or two after him. Yes, he was Lewis’ son, but Leland Hamilton and Sacha ‘PJ’ Leclerc were their own duo.

You see, PJ Leclerc was Stevie’s nephew — born to her youngest sister, Aimee Leclerc — and the sisters had made it a habit to lump the two together whenever possible. If the Leclercs hadn’t been living in Monaco (or if the Hamilton family moved back to the principality), PJ and Lewis’ son would’ve been sticking together like glue.

They shared a lot of stuff together, even their grandparents. PJ called Pascale Leclerc ‘Mamé’, and Leland had picked up on it and started calling her Mamé too.

“I’m sure we will,” Lewis answered with a grin. “Nobody does your haircut better than Mamé does.”

“You’re getting him a haircut?” Sylvie’s jaw slacked, “We’re only going to be out for a day.”

“We’ve been trying to get Lels his trims done, but he wouldn’t let anyone touch his hair,” Stevie rolled her eyes, now directing her kids towards the dining table as the two began eating breakfast. The older woman continued, “But he persisted. Only Pascale could do his hair without him throwing a fit.”

“A boy with taste, he is,” Sylvie joked, now turning towards Lewis as she asked, “Is your day out just gonna consist of getting your hair done, or are you planning to keep your kids sane?”

“Toto texted me last night,” Lewis replied, sitting across from his kids as he grabbed his vegan breakfast from the centre of the table. “He managed to book the indoor playground for a couple of hours so his kids and their cousins could go as crazy as they wanted. So it’ll keep Lels and Lotlot busy.”

“Ah yes, the F1 father support group,” Sylvie laughed. “Is that the location this time? I’m surprised he managed to book it at the last minute?”

“If you told your sisters beforehand about a day in Cannes, we would’ve given them more notice,” Lewis replied back, making Sylvie shrug. “Or a better location.”

“I know, I’m sorry-“ Sylvie started, “but I didn't even realize how free I was until Christian decided to let the communications team go for the rest of the break after Max blew up during the interview last race.”

“Mmm, yeah, that’s really not a problem,” Lewis waved off, “I’m just glad they’ve finally gotten off the hook now.”

“Well, Max got an earful from me— his fiancée— on the first day of the break,” Sylvie huffed.

Sylvie was the Head of the Media Communications of the Red Bull team and had often made an effort to ensure that they wouldn’t be stupid enough to say something that would taint the team’s image as an outstanding team. Sylvie didn’t often have an issue with managing her drivers’ media duties and responsibilities, but for whatever reason, the Dutchman’s behaviour was too much to handle by any journalist.

Sylvie continued, “I wasn’t about to let Christian nor the higher-ups just give my staff overtime because of what happened. Max needed to sort that out himself.”

“Well, they did get paid for it.”

“For a price of a certain amount of sanity, too.”

Lewis rolled his eyes playfully as Sylvie asked, “All jokes aside. Are you sure you’re alright with us going? I can just stick to Monaco instead of going to Cannes?”

“It’s not my first rodeo,” Lewis waved off and joked, “You’d only be gone for a day. Stevie, I hope you don't miss the kids too much, though.”

“I’m already shedding tears,” Stevie pouted playfully and sniffled, hugging Leland from behind as she said, “I’m going to miss my boy and my princess soooo much~ I wish Mummy could stay.”

“No, Mummy,” Leland protested with a frown, “have fun, ‘member?”

“Yes! Have fun, Mummy!” Lottie exclaimed as she munched on her waffle. “No stress in Ferrari, okay?”

Sylvie snorted behind her glass of apple juice. Lewis offered his in-law a look as they both laughed quietly. Whatever Charles told Lottie and Leland, it rubbed off on them. Lewis couldn’t fault Charles for that, especially when he’s had his years of being fucked over by the strategies in place during the previous seasons.

But Stevie’s disbelief was all over her face as she gasped, staring at her daughter with wide eyes. She glanced at Lewis and Sylvie before she shook her head and softly kissed Lottie’s hair. “The F in Ferrari means fun, my love. That’s what it means.”

“What about this?”

“Lot, princess,” Lewis looked over his shoulder as he watched his daughter stand there in a set of tracksuits. “It’s hot. Why don’t you pick something comfortable?”

“But this is pink, Daddy,” Lottie reasoned out. “I want pink.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve got more pink in your closet,” Lewis stated as he followed her into the princess-themed bedroom, glancing over at the closet before he caught a glimpse of a hot pink and reached for it. It was a see-through hot pink dress. Underneath the sheer fabric was a white playsuit that went with the dress. “See? This is much more comfortable than the trousers you’re wearing now.”

“But these trousers are for playing. White is messy, Mummy said.”

“Yeah, but Mummy and Daddy can wash it for next time,” Lewis almost sighed. His daughter was an overthinker, much like when he first began dating Stevie.

For goodness sake, Lottie was five and already thinking too much.

“It can be washed off, don’t you worry about it,” Lewis told his daughter gently, “besides, you will look really pretty in those. Mummy got them for you, remember?”

“Hm…” Lottie hummed before she took the hanger from her father’s hand and nodded. “‘Kay. Thank you, Daddy.”

“Mhm,” Lewis smiled softly as he watched her run off to change her clothes. His smile never left just as he wandered off to find his son, who sat on his bedroom floor with a Christopher Robin pop-up book. “Leland.”

The boy looked up, and his eyes brightened at the sight of his father. Lewis examined the outfit he had put together for the boy: a Prada shirt that was just as colourful as any of the outfits he wore back when he was still a driver fulfilling his media duties. Leland’s little denim bucket hat covered the wild curls waiting to be trimmed and washed at Pascale’s salon.

Despite his colourful outfit and beautiful features, Leland looked a bit… blue. His eyes dimmed a little seconds after catching sight of his dad. Lewis wondered, “How are you feeling, little man?”

��Mummy not here,” Leland told his dad almost gloomily, “Mummy sad?”

“What? She is not sad,” Lewis took his phone from his pocket before opening a photo Stevie sent of herself with her sisters on the road. Her smile was radiating from the screen, and it shone bright. He crouched down to show his son, “See? She’s happy. Maybe you are sad?”

“Leland not sad,” Leland shook his head with a frown. “Leland sad because Mummy is.”

“So, how do you feel now that you know Mummy isn’t sad?” Lewis asked. As a child, he was always told to tell his parents how he felt — that his feelings shouldn’t be bottled up but explored. A child who was told to keep to himself is a child who never learned to be curious about his surroundings, making him either isolated or unthoughtful.

Stevie wasn’t raised to be selfish, either. Lewis knew she put her younger sisters before herself, asking them how they felt or if anything could make them feel better. Just as Lottie began to explore the world, Lewis learned to encourage his children to be the little adventurers that they were — to explore their surroundings and emotions.

Much like his sister, Leland was en route to becoming an emotionally intelligent toddler, thanks to his parents. Lewis always asked Leland how he felt, especially when the child was silent. “Lels? How are you feeling, buddy?”

“Happy, Daddy,” Leland finally answered, leaving the older man to grin as Lewis reached out to wrap his arm around his son. “Happy because Mummy’s happy!”

“That is good,” Lewis nodded encouragingly. “Sissy is also happy, she said. Since you and Sissy are happy, do you know what that makes Daddy?”

“Wha’?”

“Happy!” Lewis grinned. He also learned how to share his feelings rather than bottling it up. If he was to teach his kids how to explore their emotions, then he should do it, too.

The first hour outside consisted of taking a trip to Max and Sylvie’s temporary flat in Monaco, where the cats were currently roaming around as the couple spent their time back and forth between Monaco and the UK. As requested, Lewis (and his kids) fed Sassy and Jimmy and spent half their time playing with the cats. He was never a cat person, but he’d do many things just to care for his in-laws’ pets.

Now, Lewis stood by the counter as the retired driver watched Lottie getting her braids done by a friendly hairstylist, pink extensions laced through her hair. Next to the counter was where Leland sat, his hair being cared for by Pascale Leclerc.

“It’s a good thing you came here, Lewis,” Pascale grinned as she continued to work on Leland’s hair. “Too bad you haven’t seen Charles and the kids. They were here an hour ago to say hi.”

“We’ll see them later,” Lewis chuckled. “I’ve heard he brought his friends along.”

“Three kids in one trip isn’t exactly a good idea if it was just him so he roped Estie and Pierre into watching the boys,” Pascale replied with a giggle. “His boys are just like him and his brothers back then. So active.”

“I suppose that’s what happens when you raise your kids in a principality full of people,” Lewis joked, “they’re most likely to be more loud than serene.”

“Mamé,” Leland interrupted the adult conversation, making the two peer down at the toddler as Pascale pulled away. Leland then turned and asked, “Where is PJ?”

Lewis laughed at the excitement in his son’s voice. Pascale chuckled and said, “You will see your cousin, my darling! Let Mamé care for your hair first, hm?”

“Yes, don’t worry about PJ right now, silly goose,” Lewis pinched his son’s cheek lightly, leaving Leland to grin at him. “You will see him later.”

“How are you liking Lottie’s hair though?” As Lewis looked at his daughter, Pascale gestured towards the girl, who giggled at her hairdresser as the older woman spoke about princesses. “The pink extensions just came in last week— I knew Lot’s gonna love it.”

“She saw the pastel rainbow too,” Lewis grinned, “she would’ve chosen it but said she’d go match her hair with her clothes.”

“I think your little boy will get his hair braided too,” Pascale told him quietly with a grin, “he said something about the silver one— it reminds him of Mercedes.”

Lewis chuckled at this. Leland was his mini, indeed.

Leland wasn’t even listening to them, too busy with the McLaren Tooned episode playing on Lewis’ phone. The older Hamilton merely shook his head at his son’s thoughts. “His Uncle Toto will love that.”

“Well, let’s just hope there’s enough hair to braid after his haircut,” Pascale sighed as she continued to tend to the wild state of Leland’s hair. “This boy is very indecisive about getting the right length.”

It wasn’t rare for tourists of Monaco to come across a celebrity and have their photos taken with them. It wasn’t different from Lewis — he’s a Formula One retired driver.

He’s had things signed and photos taken while he lived in the principality, and there were times when he hadn’t needed any security. He was safe here, and no fans were insane enough to even try and act erratically towards him. But he often hesitated when it came to his children.

Stevie and Lewis were both A-listers and continued to be so as years passed. Stevie was a supermodel — making her well-known in the fashion industry and even show business overall. Lewis became well known for his dedication to his racing career, and his fan base expanded as much as his wife’s did as she walked down the runways. If there was anything he knew about their marriage, it was that paparazzi wouldn’t leave them alone, especially after their children were born.

It was what they hated about living in the United Kingdom. They abhorred everything that most British media outlets had written about them because they were biased— mostly leaning more toward the editorial side instead of delivering the news. Lewis could remember how Stevie was practically harassed by the paparazzi when they had that nasty fight in public all those years ago. He learned to stand his ground in that situation— telling them to fuck off in the process.

And then there’s that situation when Stevie was pregnant with Lottie. She almost got knocked out by a reporter who wanted to get a good story, only for Lewis to scream at the man and practically threaten to end his season early if that kind of harassment continued in the paddock. Since then, FIA had a strict policy on journalists outside the F1 media, keeping a safe distance from the guests and staff.

These situations scared Lewis Hamilton. The fact that his children were out in the world, trying to explore it while cameras were on them all the freaking time? It wasn’t something that he ever enjoyed living with. So he tried to keep them at a safe distance from the cameras and the public, allowing them to explore their curiosities without being exposed to the nastiest side of the media.

But the tourists of Monaco understood his worries and how they kept their distance from the kids and Lewis while they politely asked for photos with him, nearly had him giving out his whole wallet as a gift of appreciation. His kids didn’t feel scared around these strangers but asked if they could be in the photos.

“Can I be in the photo, Daddy?” Lottie asked as she smiled up at him and the pair of fans that stood with admiration. The fans thought that Lottie and Leland were the cutest, and they wouldn’t say no.

Lewis was alright with it, too. “Yes, of course, princess. Come here,” he pulled her next to him.

“Daddy, me too!” Leland exclaimed before coming up to hug Lewis on the leg. The three smiled widely with the pair of fans, getting their photos taken before Lewis looked back at his fans.

“Thank you sooo much!” The one on the left’s eyes brightened as she gushed, “You are so amazing. And you have kind kids!”

“Oh! Thank you!” Lewis replied, equally as happy before he wrapped his arms around both his kids. “They are very polite. Their Mummy and Daddy taught them to be nice to others. I’m glad they are practicing it.”

“How old are they?” The other asked.

Lewis looked down at his daughter, “Lottie, how old are you?”

“FIVE!” Lottie stuck out her hand, showing five of her fingers.

“TWO!” Leland answered after, making Lewis smile.

“Do you want to see something?” The fans nodded before he beamed in pride and asked Lottie, “Lotlot, if you add five and two, what number would you have?”

Lottie paused for a second before murmuring quietly to herself, the adults watching her as she counted on her fingers. “Four…five…six…” then she looked up at them and answered, “Seven, Daddy.”

“…and they’re smart, too— ugh!” The fans squealed. “I wasn’t even interested in maths at her age.”

Lewis continued to smile, offering his fans a big grin. It wasn’t every day he got to meet fans who weren’t so invasive when it came to his privacy— or those who were too overbearing and would scare his kids away. If only everyone were like them, then maybe Lewis would’ve been more open to sharing his life with the public without any hesitation.

Lewis eyed the cotton candy bag on the indoor cafe table, wondering if it was left open on purpose as he glanced at his in-laws. Charles Leclerc sat there and shrugged, indicating that it wasn’t his kids. Then, the British man looked at his other in-law, who was once his team principal when he still raced.

Toto Wolff sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically, grabbing the plastic bag as he tucked it into his daughter’s opened backpack and muttered, “Your niece has a bad habit of leaving things out for the littles to get sugar rush on. I keep telling her to put her stuff away so it doesn't get stolen and it's clearly not working.”

“We know, Toto,” Lewis chuckled with a shake of his head before looking at Charles, “it was a good thing the little ones found the playground first before the sweets.”

Pierre Gasly and Esteban Ocon were also in the cafe and made their presence known to Lewis as they returned with a tray, and five mugs of ice cream were waiting to be held. The sight of the desserts left Toto, Lewis and Charles groaning.

“Gasly, I hope that isn’t for any of the kids,” Toto started, already too annoyed at the thought of feeding his youngest this amount of ice cream. Seeing the energy of the Leclerc kids already took out Toto’s energy, so for his youngest to get sugar high wasn’t on the books.

“Non,” Pierre replied with a smirk before grabbing a spoon and taking the cloud mug off the tray. He scooped up some of his chocolate ice cream before indulging in it. He then said, “It’s hot outside. We shouldn’t leave the ice creams to the kids and have some for ourselves.”

“I like your thinking,” Lewis and Toto nodded before they both reached for the cold dessert.

Their conversation shifted from the desserts to the fathers’ vacation with the kids. Pierre and Esteban merely listened as they had nothing to offer regarding a conversation about kids. Neither of them had any.

Toto nearly went on a tangent about his daughter’s stubbornness and his son’s overwhelming practice days. According to him, Tia kept forgetting that karting was what she needed to take a break from. The girl barely gave herself some time off and often insisted on getting driven straight to the karting track in Brackley for practice by the family chauffeur. She was nine and already insisting on being extremely perfect at the league.

Not only that, but Toto’s eldest, Soren, was barely given a break from his school’s association football practice; his coach was a douche, and if the men didn’t know any better as they were listening to Toto, they would have immediately said that the coach was trying to make the school team into a Premier League-level team. It was a private school, not a football academy. If Toto and Tilly hadn’t pulled Soren out of his practice (during his summer break), he wouldn’t have made it to Monaco with his siblings. Toto also expressed how close he was to a fistfight with Soren’s football coach.

Then Lewis continued to sit there as Charles told them about his day with his sons so far. The kids baked cookies earlier today with their Uncle Estie and watched The Princess and The Frog after Hervé, Charles’ son, cried at the thought of his mom not being home. He then stated how worried he was about tucking the kids in tonight because he never did it alone. His wife was always with him to do it. Lewis and Toto only said that he would do perfectly fine as long as he did what he normally does on their bedtime - telling them stories, tucking them in and everything else.

Charles’ worry eventually withered away, leaving Lewis to tell the men on the table how his day had been going. They all kept their eyes on their children as they wreaked havoc at the playground, with Toto’s two eldest at the arcade area.

“...I’ve met some fans today,” Lewis continued on, “They were so polite, and the kids were surprisingly not scared of them.”

“They must’ve kept themselves at a distance then,” Esteban replied, “which is very good.”

“The kids are sociable, they are,” Lewis told the men, “they just tend to be scared of other people because they get hounded real fast whenever they see me or Stevie. It’s not just us, right?”

Charles nodded, “PJ doesn’t like the journalists. Some assholes still shove their cameras on the kids’ faces, and it takes me a good while to not break them. Remember Silverstone last year? PJ cried hard because of the flashes and the screaming of the paparazzi.”

Lewis’s heart broke at the statement, “Poor lad.”

“That’s why I think Monaco’s safer at times,” Toto murmured, “nobody’s bothering the kids whenever they’re out.”

“I’ve always considered getting a security for them,” Lewis shrugged.

“Why don’t you? It’s good if you did,” Pierre piped up, sipping on his water.

Lewis then answered, “Our home in Warwick’s pretty secluded and Lottie’s preschool is very accommodating. I like the thought of getting security, but at the same time, I don’t believe that we need that just yet. We’d need it for public events but for daily? No, I don’t think we need it.”

“Speaking of preschool,” Charles interjected before he asked Lewis, “Herb and Jules are telling me about this book that they saw from Lottie. It’s phonics, I think? J- Jol–”

“Oh! Jolly Phonics,” Lewis suggested, leaving the Monegasque to nod eagerly. “Yes, Lottie got a lot of those books. It was what they have in their preschool.”

“Yeah, the boys said they love it,” Charles pursed his lips, “will you send me the link to it? I’ve been wondering what the titles are, but I've had no luck. Aimee was struggling to figure it out, too.”

“Definitely, I’ll send the Amazon link to you,” Lewis nodded as Charles murmured ‘thanks.’

“You know what, Charles,” Toto piped up, making the men turn to him, “I’ll also send you some links to the Italian and French phonics that we got the kids. I find it quite helpful when they learn it at home, too. Have you ever thought of flashcards?”

“Oui,” Charles nodded, “but I would have to make them myself, non? I can’t buy it.”

“I am sure there are some resources you can get them from,” Toto replied, “but Tilly always made them by hand. She printed them and laminated them. The kids really liked them because they were the ones putting the answers in.”

“What about you, Lewis?” Charles asked, “Do you have the same?”

Lewis grimaced, “We do our phonics on the iPad.”

“Maybe that’s what I should do, though,” the retired driver continued as he hummed, “it’ll definitely be a hands-on experience for Lottie and Leland. Do you reckon your wife still has the links to the printables, Toto?”

DADDIES, DEBRIEFED! Formula One drivers and team principal discuss teaching strategies at home as Toto Wolff shows a photo of preschool books in his phone.

“Indoor playgrounds, pastel mugs and… serious discussion of at-home learning? Now, this is a story I can get behind!”

CHARLES LECLERC, PIERRE GASLY, ESTEBAN OCON AND LEWIS HAMILTON listen in as Toto speaks seriously in this photo!

“What could they be talking about, you ask? Simple: learn phonics and preschool lessons at home and make it as fun as playtime!”

NAME ONE THING HOTTER THAN THE MONACO SUN. We’ll hint: Formula One drivers being the hottest dads as they take their kids for a day out in the principality.

“When is it Max Verstappen’s turn? No, the cats and the dog do not count.”

“Daddy?” Lewis Hamilton had a thick skin. Nothing could break him, really. But his confidence towards the possibility of being vulnerable to anything weakened as he became a father to two of the most precious humans in the world. He had a weak spot, but he was okay with it.

He was never prepared for anything, though. When he turned around to face his daughter, already tucked in her bed after a bedtime story, his smile softened as Lottie asked him, “Are you happy?”

“Of course, I am, my girl,” Lewis nearly cried on the spot as he continued, “why did you ask? Are you happy?”

“I am,” Lewis could tell that Lottie was already falling asleep, but it never stopped her from grinning as she said, “But Mummy said that we ask others if they are happy too.”

“Yes, because we don’t know if they are happy or not,” Lewis walked back to her direction before crouching down, “And other people would not know if you don’t answer them. Mummy’s right, princess, and you are such a smart girl for remembering.”

Lewis tucked the strand of curl behind her ear and kissed her forehead, “Now, sleep tight, my love. You can continue being happy in your dreams, hm?”

“Good night,” Lottie murmured before she drifted off to sleep, “Love you, Daddy.”

Lewis peered down at her and smiled softly, whispering in the air, “And I love you.”

If someone asked Lewis how he was feeling, he’d say that he was happy that the Hamilton daycare in Monaco was a success.

fin.

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fairydares · 10 months

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i'm not even trying to be shitty because i love getting comments on my fics and even love getting comments that let me know people want more asap. these days, that's fine.

that said, i once was thrown in the hospital for over 2 months. when i came out, was so excited to see the comments on my fic, hoping they'd help warm my (at the time) very fragile heart. and they were all like "UPDATE", "UPDATE ALREADYYYYYY", "UGH NOT ANOTHER CANCELLED FIC THIS KEEPS HAPPENING TO MEEEEEE" "Please just UPDATTTTEEE" other than those types of comments, the only kind i got was hatred for the premise of the story (aka, my fic got its own harassment campaign...in hindsight, i'm quite proud of that).

i was already so low on myself, and that really made it so, so much worse. i never wound up finishing that fic (now clocks in at about 50k reads total) and i actually made the choice to leave the fandom for a while, which caused me to miss a lot of said fandom's prime.

now that i'm older, remembering the whole thing just really irritates me. not even because i went through it but because it took me way too long to figure out how obnoxiously bratty and nasty this behavior was and because i know other people go through the same hurt and self-loathing i did because of shit like this.

i almost fucking died. none of these people knew that. they knew nothing about me, yet felt perfectly within their rights to make demands. not one person hit up my inbox or comment section to ask if i was alright. even that would have been fine if i'd gotten a single, straight-up compliment that wasn't DEMANDING work from me when i was crying like a faucet 24/7, trying not to kill myself, and fainting anytime i was the least bit stressed.

but believe it or not, there wasn't ONE simply nice comment given to my fic, while i was getting bounced around hospitals and treated like shit by healthcare providers. not even something as simple and nice as "can't wait for the next chap!" this was a while ago, but still. these days, it boggles my fucking mind.

because i wasn't paid to give anyone a story. i don't think i should've been, but still, it took time and effort i got nothing in return for. i didn't gain anything from this; if anything, it just wound up hurting me even more than i already was, thanks to how people were about it. how do you feel when you're screamed at, judged, or patronized for "not getting enough done" after you've been through hell, with no one showing you any understanding?

fandom isn't a service, and you aren't owed. if everyone acted like some of you, it would shrink faster than an Apple laptop. this is a hobby and if you want to nourish it? you need to drop the self-centeredness and start seeing it as the community it is.

#fairy tail #fandom #ao3 #ffnet #fanficnet #fan fiction #fanfiction

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olderthannetfic · 1 year

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Alright I got kinda a bananas questions for you, but how much time do you think should be divided up between work, hobbies and people. Actually wait more specifically what do you think is a good goal to just sit down and do work, but like actually doing work. Like sitting down for 90 minutes and finishing something not working on said thing for 5 hours then finish it. Over the past couple years I kinda erm, just sorta stopped? My mental health has steadily going to shit and covid fucked that all to hell and I was spending so much time in what was essentially a state of panic(didn’t realize it at the time, but that’s essentially what was happening) that I was too exhausted to do anything and just kind of stopped. I didn’t realize it the time but now that I’m finally getting better Ive noticed how little I was doing and how doing little really negatively effects me. Its become a good marker for me to check that I’ve been actually painting, seeing friends, going for a swim but sometimes it still all goes belly up and I’m trying to figure out what is a good goal.(and whats a good marker for when fucking up) Like a realistic long term goal I can strive for and keep track of. I could real easily just say “go for a swim everyday” but that feels unrealistic. In fact I put exercise in same spot as painting so it would be more like “do hobby for an hour a day” but even that feels like a lot. The thought of that feels exhausting so at least for me it should probs be do hobby thing at least 5 times week. Big goal is to swim 3 times and paint twice or vice a versa. its just hard to do that and then I’ll feel like crap and then notice that I haven’t exercised at all for 8 days and I just don’t move around enough to do that. I’m like a dog or walking house plant that needs to go outside and move around for sunshine and blood flow otherwise I start to physically and mentally feel awful. Its just hard to notice you know? Ugh its annoying because there’s so much shit. Its not just that I need some kinda exercise I also need to do some kinda hobby thing for me and other shit that I like to do. And that isn’t even including the work I need to do. I wasn’t even working before I cannot express enough how much of “doing nothing” I was doing. I’m doing better know with meds and therapy and what not and it is helping but I’ll still get home at 7 and just look at my phone and do some combo of read fanfictin/ play sudoko till I get tired and fall asleep. Then I wake up and shocking, I’m still on bullshit. Sometimes its feels to much to shower (at least with that one I know that I can get away with one at most 2 days with out shower so if I didn’t shower the day before I can mostly just force myself into the shower) that’s what I’m trying to figure out for everything else so I can look at my self force my self to stop looking at phone and paint a shitty flower or something. I was doing pretty good but The other week I house sitter for a friend and was immediately back on bullshit. I barely left her apartment the entire time I was there I’m sure that if I actually went to class, got exercise, painted (I brought all my paints then did fuck all) I would have been able to get more work done. I think Im only actually productive when I’m actually getting up and doing crap. I’m in a contact state of “working” and doing nothing but time is moving forward. I have no idea what this anon is. Ugh whatever I’ll submit it anyway

TL;DR trying to be better at actually do stuff and not doing fuck all. Any idea on what’s a good goal to strive for and what’s a good marker for shits getting fuck go for a walk

Social time is going to be extremely variable. I'm an extrovert and thus lots of social time is no problem. I also do okay not seeing people though as long as I'm busy.

Exercise should be prioritized above most other things, much as I hate this. You should be doing something basically every day. I agree that swimming is likely not realistic on that schedule, but maybe a walk around the block? It sucks, but forcing yourself to get off your ass every day will help with the rest of it. Also, exercise that takes you out of the house, even if only briefly, requires that you put on clothes, which is also helpful.

Get off of social media. If you're having trouble managing things, now is the time to take a break from anything that involves doom scrolling and time just disappearing.

(I say from my bed where I'm wearing the dirty sweatshirt I slept in and no pants while answering asks instead of working on my next novel. Hmm...)

It's obviously important to you to prioritize painting, but I see the difficulty there: you have to get set up and clean up afterwards, and you can't leave paints sitting around or they dry out. I'd try to schedule one longer session per week for now. If you have something else like sketching, you can schedule more frequent shorter sessions because that's easier to pick up and put down without a lot of prep/cleanup.

I do find little morning rituals like making tea helpful. They pry me out of bed and add some structure to my day.

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proudfreakmetarusonniku · 1 year

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whoops wrote some stuff for “c!benchtrio in a sleepy 80s town where every myth is real and no one is normal” au. yes the cabinet is polybius. of course it is.

TW: period typical ableism, references to period typical homophobia, mind control, referenced kidnapping.

tommy loved saturday.

one, it meant he was off school. school was a fucking hell system designed to tear out the individuality of kids and turn them into little worker drones- at least, that was what wil reckoned, and wil was probably the smartest person in town by account of haunting the shit out of everyone over the past few centuries, so tommy believed him. besides, he struggled to sit still for long enough to write, and tubbo couldn’t read the words, so they spent most of their time staring at each other in detention anyway.

but that wasn’t the main reason. the two of them skived off school half the time, though in their defence it’s kind of hard to go when you’ve got seven government conspiracies, three independent mad scientists, several different types of aliens, at least one fae court, and whatever the fuck sam was on your tail 24/7. honestly, being kidnapped by half of them was probably better than an english lesson where the teachers shouted at him for writing in the proper british way he was taught instead of suddenly switching to the dumb american shitty way. his organs might have been rearranged last time he'd gotten abducted by a flying saucer, but at least that meant he looked cool on x-rays.

no, the real reason saturday was great was that saturday was arcade day.

if tommy wasn’t religious, he'd call the local arcade his church, but that felt disrespectful to Her Lady Prime (though, considering the amount of gods he'd met in sleepy l'manberg he was convinced that there was probably enough gods in oregon every video arcade had one). still, he approached the day phil would drop off him and tubbo at the doors for a whole day with reverence, and as the man who was not his father (he actually wanted him) dropped them off, he handed them enough coins for an extra with a wink.

that was another reason tommy loved saturday. school didn’t really accept local cryptids, unfortunately, but with a mask, hat, and a long enough skirt, ranboo could blend in as a weirdo teenager instead of a local nightmare. besides, he liked the flashing lights.

ranboo was in first, as always, and rushed tommy and tubbo into a big, big hug the second they entered the doors. he knew when phil dropped them off, and had started waiting to ambush them.

“ugh, gross, man,” tommy said, not sounding annoyed at all. “we're twelve now. too old for little kid cuddles.”

“why?” ranboo’s voice had a vibration to it like an insect. it made tommy feel comforted.

“because you get beat up if you're weird, y’know!” tommy flushed. “i don’t wanna get beat up, fucker.”

tubbo raised an eyebrow. “tommy, have you met a normal person in this town?”

“well, no-“

“there. look, are we going to play some pac-man or not?”

“ugh, no!” tommy said, giggling as he pushed the other boys away. “pac-man is so uncool. now, frogger? that, man, is truly radical.”

ranboo blinked. “what’s a radical?”

“it’s just one of tommy's weird big kid terms, boo.” tubbo said, ribbing ranboo and grinning at the disgusted face tommy made. tommy didn’t have any issues with, y’know, those sort of people. people who got mad at boys kissing boys were stupid. the issue was that tubbo was far too young to be flirting with anyone. that stuff was gross. “he just wants to be cool, y’know. that’s why he’s got that stupid mullet.”

“mullets are so cool, fuck you,” tommy said, sticking out his tongue in a not at all childish way. “anyway, now are you two gonna go all K-I-S-S-I-N-G, or will you- oh my Prime, what the fuck is that?”

every machine in the building was empty of players. all except one, a blank looking cabinet, which had a line that looked a million billion miles long.

ranboo raised an eyebrow. “good game, i guess?”

“no game is that good. not even frogger.” tommy shook his head. “that’s like… remember when that fucking weird government dude had all those pills and shit? that made you all fuzzy and do what they say?”

tubbo gasped. “you can’t say that, tom! you know he has memory issues. stop being a dick.”

“fine! sorry.” tommy threw his hands up in frustration. “but anyway, you see that blank fucking stare on their face? well, most of there’s, purpled seems fine but he's got the whole being not human thing going. that’s the look ranboo had when that dream fucker gave him the pills. that’s mind control, innit?”

“don’t remind me of dream,” ranboo said, growling.

“oh, yeah. sorry man.”

“anyway… do you think that might be involved? if it’s to do with governments… i'd rather not get cut up by a lab, thank you. we need to stop it.”

“chill out, ranboo, being cut up isn’t even that bad if they give you proper painkillers and shit,” tommy said, ignoring the weird stares ranboo gave him because of that. “besides, y’know i'll never say no to uncovering some secret truth. it’s almost as fun as frogger. tubbo?” tommy paused, turning to his other best friend. “uh, tubbo?”

there was a far away, dreamy look in tubbo’s eyes. not those of brainwashing, but desire. “i want to take that thing apart,” tubbo said, sounding overjoyed. “i need it. i need that beauty so bad.”

well. it was better than the barrels of radioactive material he'd seen tubbo carry into the shed. tommy couldn’t deny that. “then, let’s go figure shit out, then.”

#my writing #dream smp au #c!benchtrio #tw ableism #tw referenced homophobia #tw mind control #tw referenced kidnapping

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lovecolibri · 1 year

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SaL anon here friend and I don't know about you but I'm so, so tired. Amazing how the rush of excitement I got at seeing the promo pics for an actual dramatic emergency could instantly be taken out by a 7 second promo. I feel like KR got the news well before the official announcement and said "I'm going to turn this finale into everything I want", and basically decided to push everyone but Buck to the sidelines and make them observers while pairing him with her failed self-insert. And ugh, the only thing equally as bad as the prospect of L being involved in saving everyone is the prospect of the emergency just being like a quarter of the episode and us wasting the rest of the time on wrapping up Buck's many, many, many storylines. I know we don't know for sure this is what would happen, but KR has given us no reason to think it won't. Frankly I think we should let ABC know that should they, in taking over 911, choose to retcon anything (or everything) from the last two seasons we're okay with that, and no questions will be asked.

And yeah, I can definitely agree that while Buck taking over during a crisis would be a nice way to get closure on his doubts from episode 1, the path there (if one can call it a path, which implies it goes somewhere) makes absolutely no sense. I don't even want to think about how they are going to shove Natalia (I think she's around next episode?...still) and a baby into the whole mess. I honestly would have easily taken 50% less Buck this season if they had just taken the time do the leadership arc well and have this grand emergency to show that off.

So while I'm kind of resigned on the finale for OG, I have a bit more hope for the LS one, though I too am hard side-eyeing the "earn the wedding" comments. Who exactly has to earn this wedding? The audience? They make the effort to tune in regularly despite some pretty shitty writing choices, I think they're owed a debt. The characters? Not sure how two people being in an long-term relationship and seeing each other through hardships hasn't earned them a wedding. We'll see what happens, but at this point its the odds are 50/50 that this "tragedy" will involve either a hospital or a crime scene (or both)

Hi my friend! I have been under the weather this week and ended up being out of town all day today so I am *literally* tired, but also I am WITH you on my excitement for the finale getting sucked away by half that promo being of L and her once again butchering line delivery on something as minimal as "mayday" 🙄 I already got my hopes up for a good firefam feels focused episode and got let down by 6x11 SO HARD, so I'm just going to operate under the worst assumptions that way I can, hopefully, end the episode with a "could have been worse I guess". Although I went into 6x17 with zero expectations and the show still managed to let me down anyway soooo 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

I'm sure KR knew something was up, the negotiations were *rough* last year so I'm sure they were all told to prepare. And since it's something the show usually does, wrapping up nicely each season, it won't feel out of place, however I'm also worried the emergency won't be that long. Seasons 2-4 all had a cliffhanger in the penultimate episode to get people to tune in to the finale but 6x17 did NOT give people a lot of reason to HAVE to tune in. At least s5 made the effort of showing that firetruck crash like 8000 times over the week and making it look like Bobby was in danger, even if it was just a 5 min emergency that ultimately didn't do anything at all or affect anyone. They couldn't even be bothered to give a promo until Friday and without a cliffhanger, what's the hook to draw everyone in for the finale? Because you know those casual viewers are scouring the internet for news about the show, hell, most of them probably figured with no promo that 6x17 WAS the finale! Madney got engaged which is usually a season finale thing so I wonder how many of them though that was it!

"I honestly would have easily taken 50% less Buck this season if they had just taken the time do the leadership arc well and have this grand emergency to show that off." 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 SAAAAAAAME. They should have spent less time trying to turn everything about his storylines into a joke and actually delved into HIS emotions more. Instead we got the whole sperm baby now being about some rando characters we don't even know or care about's emotions for some reason?! His death being turned into "haha funny math skills for ONE episode only!" And this whole death doula thing where we haven't even heard them actually really talking about anything and what we did see was her being DEEPLY insensitive and unempathetic for her line of work, and then a parade of Buck's awful choices to remind everyone of them for??? What reason exactly? To give her a reason to leave? When after what we've seen we....didn't even need her in the first place? Like, WHAT has she actually said or done that has actually been meaningful or addressed Buck's death? We saw some of the aftermath in his talk with Eddie at the cemetery but what purpose besides giving Buck another LI he met on a call is she actually serving? Anything important could have been imparted by a victim at a call, and that triggered Buck to talk to someone in his firefam (OR HIS THERAPIST FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST!), and given us a peek into Buck's head about it. Instead we have wasted all this time on what? An excuse to bring two of the most audience hated characters back? WHAT?! Like, literally, who allowed this to happen? WHOMST in that production team looked at this absolute mess that KR presented as an idea and said "yeah, that works!" ?!?!?!?! Sorry, I'm too grouchy to try and make sense of this, it's just SO stupid and such a waste of time, the ONE thing KR is good at.

As for LS, I still haven't gotten to watch last week's episode. I'm hoping to watch it tomorrow but at this point I'm just watching that show with an "eh. This might as well happen I guess" because I'm out of energy for much more than that. I've seen some of the spec floating around but mostly I'm just excited that we were all right and Paul is officiating. Bobby is gonna be sooooo jealous. But for real, WHAT is this idea on shows that characters have to "earn" happiness and that always meaning that someone like, dies, or they have to be miserable in 98% of the episodes to get one or two happy scenes before the next tragedy strikes? Because I think the WRITING should have to earn the payoff and neither show has managed to do that this season.

Here's expecting the worst so we aren't TOO disappointed, while holding space to be happy if Andrew manages to get around the nonsense KR insisted on to give us a decent emergency because I doubt we'll get a satisfying wrap up for anything else on the Buck or Eddie front. Maybe we'll get extra lucky and the backlash after this week (and on that TVLine article, seriously what did they expect with that question?) will get L's scenes cut as much as possible again. For old times sake. Pretty much every article comment space, review space, and SM space I've seen has been pretty clear about KR needing to be gone so here's hoping ABC is taking notes! At the very least, their promo team can't possible be worse, right?

#my sweet nonnie friends #sleeping at last anon #911 #911 spoilers #anti lucy donato #for blacklisting purposes #i want to be excited but it works better for ME personally to not be right now #and then maybe be pleasantly surprised when it airs and the emergency takes more than 15 minutes #sorry to everyone else in my inbox it was a rough week

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simon-x-billy · 1 year

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Simon x Billy

Year of the OTP: February

Chapter 2: The European plug situation

February prompt: Different

AN: Simon x Billy is a slow-burn m/m fic using the first-time-bi trope; turns NSFW (male/male, consensual) beginning tamely at Chapter 7 (July).

Meet my OTP: Simon Lewis, author of a best-selling paranormal book series, who keeps writing himself into his novels; and Billy Delaney, Irish handsome devil and nomadic man of mystery, who chefs internationally; and Italy. It’s sort of like a threesome. Simon x Billy is a slow-burn m/m fic using the first-time-bi trope. TW: References to the pain of being cheated on, bad language, bad humor, puns, Irish-isms, making fun of Americans, massive rewrites.

Read it all: All: on ao3 || Start: January Ch.1 || Next: March Ch.3

Chapter 2: The European plug situation

———/Simon/———

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. This is not going the way I planned. I hate it when that happens. I was prepared.

Except for the European plug situation.

First off, my bad. My responsibility, my fault, my dead phone. On day 1, in another country that speaks a language I don’t parlo. Except when I’m having an internal scolding session. Apparently, io parlo Italiano just fine when I least need it. Like when I’m conducting a conversation behind my face. Behind my fucking face. (Whose lip I can feel curling to express distaste and low key angst.)

Ugh. They have to have cell phone chargers at the gift shop. I sigh. Looking around, it’s pretty obvious that this was originally some kind of old, schmancy vacation villa. Something tells me there’s no gift shop. It’s not that kind of hotel. Under my breath I whimper, “Fuck.”

“All right?” It’s Billy. I jump because why is he standing behind me?

I pivot and fix him with my very best suspicious glare. I went to theatre school. Ok, fine, summer camp. Point is, I give good face when needed. This is one of those times, one of those faces. “Jesus! How long have you been standing there, creeper? Were you listening in on my conversation?”

“You mean, the word ‘fuck?’ That was a pretty quiet, short conversation.” He’s grinning at me now.

“Did you go to theatre school?” I clarify, “Like, ever?”

Billy snorts. “No, man. Where’d that come from?”

He’s all good humor and it’s so totally inappropriate, I try willing him to stop. His eyebrow — oh my god it’s humongous wtf — one arches while the other frowns. How does he do that? At least the top half of his face isn’t grinning anymore. That’s progress.

“What?” he demands. “Why’re yeh lookin at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’d like me to feck right off, leaving you alone to realize you’ve not got your room key.” He jangles it at me.

“That would have been the topper to a very shitty day.” Having stopped rolling (not molly - the other kind of rolling), my eyes pop out of my head. Because he has handed me the keys. “Whoa,” I say reverently. “These are sooo cool.”

I have to keep myself from fondling them. “Skeleton keys,” I whisper.

“Glad they cheered you up, man. You were havin a mope there for a while.”

My mope returns. Sort of an exasperation + anxiety x annoyance, to the power of a lingering ache in my stomach that I know from recent experience is a bone deep sadness.

“And now it’s back,” he says. “Whatever’s goin through your head can be moped over later. Mate, you’re in Italy. Yeh haven’t seemed to notice that yet.”

“Is there a gift shop?”

“Sorry, what?” he asks. Is he laughing at me?

“A gift shop.”

“This isn’t that kind of hotel, mate, sorry. Is there something I can help yeh with?”

So many things. “I just remembered the plugs are different here. I have arrived in Italy with a dead phone and no compatible plugs. I feel so betrayed.”

He laughs and his eyes twinkle. They twinkle.

At least he can tell when I’m joking. That’s a thing.

“Don’t worry, Seemon. I’ll get it sorted.” He gives a small salute and disappears into the bowels of the hotel.

Oh shit. “Wait! Billy! Billy?”

A woman appears in his place from some dimly lit doorway. She reminds me of my mother. But with fewer anxiety and worry wrinkles criss-crossing her face.

Damn. Ma would be so wounded by that thought, so I put it out of my mind.

“Signore?”

“Oh, um, si, io non parlo Italiano. I like to start all my sentences that way,” I say with an attempt at charm. Billy doesn’t get to own charming.

She gives me a strange look, and responds with the old classic “Okaaaay,” in heavily accented English. “Why do you stand in the doorway? With the baggage around you like goats.”

Apparently neither one of us is very funny in English. I feel so lost in translation.

“Come. Let me make you checked in, and we will settle you. Come in from the doorstep,” she says as she turns away with her neck craning. “Leo? Leo!”

A young man (boy?) — A young man-boy hurries out of what appears to be an office. She’s peppering him with instructions that I can’t understand. My suitcases are being pulled right out of my hands. Rude! (But helpful. I guess.) Don’t try that in New York.

While she futzes with her computer, I finally take a moment to notice the amazing carved wood segment of wall behind her. I wish I could see it in detail. Figure out what story it’s trying to tell. It has something to do with nudity. I try squinting, but that’s all I can tell from here.

A bright, clashing array of intricately painted tiles are framed throughout the room. Chaotic, yes. Neutral, no. We’ll go with chaotic good. It’s also delightful, which I’m so not in the mood for at the moment.

She tells me about the amenities, breakfast times, the famous restaurant, blah blah blah as she leads me up three flights of stairs, and down a long, narrow hallway with many doors — none of which are mine. I’m starting to lose my bearings, but it’s only one more flight of stairs, atop which she pauses to unlock a door. “It is good, Signore Laywees? You have the face of a dog who is whining.”

“Wow,” I say, taken aback. Taken-aback has now officially been added to my repertoire of faces. Officially.

“Did I say something in a way that is wrong?” she asks, with a worried look.

“I don’t know. You might have actually wanted to call me a whining dog.” I start to chuckle.

“Yes. Exactly. A whining dog. I remember for next time.”

I blink.

She nods, “Si certo. Certo. And I tell you that what is here is the finest suite at Hotel di Limoni is here.” She ushers me on to the top floor. “You look around, you. See that there are no other doors here to this floor. You are here alone.”

“Yes. Yes, I am,” I nod, thank her, “Grazie,” and close the door behind her.

———/-/———

My mood disappears instantly.

Oh my god I’m in Italy.

The room before me has pale yellow walls the color of butter imported from Irish cows. That’s specific and descriptive, Lewis, nice one. (I try to encourage the writer within, whenever I can.)

Source Right: Hotel La Tonnarella. I stayed there, but not in that room. I wasn’t trying to get in that much debt.

Everything is in shades of sea and sky blues, bright lemon yellow, and pale Irish butter, with more of the chaotic good tiles here and there working their delightful magic. The bed cover is also in pale Irish butter. I will sleep in pale Irish butter tonight. Oh yes, I will.

The overall effect is an airy room, full of light, that recedes into the background against one hell of a view.

Large french doors lining the exterior wall lead out to a massive deck. One that I and I alone can access. The doors have been thrown open, with sheer curtains rippling into the room. The breeze off the Mediterranean Sea is fresh and cool.

Oh my god. That’s the Mediterranean Sea!

Or Tyrrhenian. Whatever.

I watch as boats speed across my entire view, appearing and disappearing between the open doors. They leave their long white slashes behind them, literally left in their wake. From inside the room, they look like dashes, stuttering white lines in each window darting through the perfection of the blue Medi/Tyrrhenian Sea.

Waking up to this is going to be amazing. She would have loved it.

“Fuck her. She can’t have it.” It’s mine, and mine alone.

———/-/———

I acknowledge that I need to stop. Stop with the moping. Fuck Billy for trying to be friendly and helpful, the bastard. That charming Irishman is right and I temporarily hate him for it. But only hyperbolically.

I walk out onto my balcony and into the bright sun. I immediately decide that this is worthy of a sunburn, and shuck off my shirt.

Oof. I’ve just realized that my eyes are watering because that distinctive odor is coming from me.

One would think a shower after a sunbath would be the rational, intelligent option. Nah. Intelligence has fewer hit points than stacking a 24 hour odyssey of jet lag, rumpled hair, eau de pit, and a bad attitude. I’m winning today.

“Chin up, Simon. Chin up.” That was Ma’s pearl of wisdom for this trip. The sum total of her empathy. She didn’t even like What’ser Name. So where’s the sympathy? The empathy? Apparently empathy dims in direct proportion to the glamorousness of one’s vacation destination.

Maybe I can wash the mope off. And the headache. And the me.

Grabbing my stuff, I head for the bathroom and stop dead.

“Dove il bano!” I cry. ‘Bathroom.’ Feh! What an absolutely disgraceful excuse of a word to describe something as magnificent as this. Look at it. So majestic, while also being mindfully calming. Everything everywhere is blue, and I can’t tell the inside from the outside.

Turning on a shower should not be this difficult. I am a grown man, goddammit. I should be able to figure out how to turn on a freakin shower. I mean, I figured out what the extra toilet was for. Correction: Not a toilet but a bidet. Though I admit to having called the front desk about it. What can I say, Italians like to have fresh butts.

“You will not defeat me, vile mechanism of demonkind, I will not be deterred, oh no! I will have my shower, and dammit, it will be good.”

———/-/———

I am happy to report to you, oh devoted fictitious audience in my head, that it was good. It was the best shower of my life. Or at least one of the top five, as I may have better showers even than this magnificent one at some point in the future. At least I doubt I will ever smell so good again. It’s the bath stuff made from a “beneficial” mineral spring somewhere around here. I want to smell like this every day for the rest of my life.

But first. The sun.

I feel unencumbered, unrestrained. So I skip the swim trunks and just wear my towel onto my massive deck. Deck. Not dick. Deck. I do want to let it all hang out there, but then, I also want to disappear into this experience, and the specter of horrified travelers covering the eyes of their crying children is enough to reinforce my modesty. I don’t want my dick ruining anyone’s vacation, so I keep the towel on.

———/-/———

I’m drooling as I wake up on my side with my ass half hanging out. It’s not a good look.

Turns out I couldn’t care less. Four uninterrupted hours of sun, in the peace and quiet of the apocalyptic visions usually filling my head these days. Whenever I think about the book I owe my editor — Noooo! Duck! Run! Hide! — See? I can’t. I won’t. You can’t make me.

And yet I have already double-crossed myself because I’m thinking about it anyway. Yesterday I was still slogging away at Book Four’s first chapter, and hating every single word I wrote. It was a whole pile of nothing. Less than nothing. It was tripe. So I gave up and rashly trashed it, deleting the offending text while I waited to board my flight.

All of it. It’s gone. And that’s a good thing, because every turn of phrase I had managed to wrest from my uninspired noggin just failed like a lead weight. Total fail. I’m used to having a tiny, yet enthusiastic filmmaker living inside my creativity. He’s really good at pulling forth the sweeping torrent of imagery I see like a movie in my head when I’m on a roll. (Again, not that kind of rolling.) But now? I can only manage six or so paragraphs at a time, and hatefully hate every one of them. “Whyyyyyyyy?” I ask the sky.

So here’s what I know: Half my characters will eventually be about to die unless Simon saves them. With the help of super-vamp Raphael and maybe a nymph or two. Looking up, I can see the islands they call the Syranusas, after the sirens who so callously call sailors to their deaths. So now I’m thinking maybe I’ll pull in some expendable mermaids, too. I dunno.

It all just sounds so played out. At least to my eyes. Like, I’m writing another war, with all the same characters, having the same powers, and using them all the same way, to rescue the same loved ones + world from evil the same way. Except I’ve stuck them all on the Mediterranean and added a bunch of mermaids. What’s next? Introduce zombies into the series as if they actually exist — for the first time in book four? Holy hell, writer’s block sucks. God.

This is supposed to be the book that finally focuses on Simon as the main character. The fans just will not shut up about wanting one. I groan. And not in a sexy way. I mean, I know I should be flattered that they like the whole twisty ‘he’s me’ thing, but how do I write a whole book about a character I based on me? Isn’t that kind of self-serving? Cringe?

I am such a dick. Only I would write myself into a book.

My eye-rolls are practically deafening at the mere thought of it. A whole book about me who is not me. And I have only me to blame. (Other me.)

———/-/———

Read More: All on ao3 || Start: January Ch.1 || Next: March Ch.3

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strang3lov3 · 10 months

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hope this is ok but I need advice

So lately my bff of 8 years has been acting distant. It started about three weeks ago ,we messaged almost every day but lately she barely talks and I would ask her to hang out and she would say she’s busy and can’t hang but then I would see on IG that she was hanging with other friends , this happened about 7 times so I finally asked if I had done something wrong , she said that nothing was wrong and I hadn’t done anything bad. So I told her ‘ok I am glad we’re fine , so since you’re busy I’ll stop asking and when you are free just let me know.’ And I thought everything would be fine but then she posted on IG a story hanging out with friends at a place right next to my house.

I know I sound clingy but we’ve always been super close and done everything together and whenever I have free time we’d spend it together so this is just so strange.

I just feel upset because I have a hard time making friends and it’s like she’s no longer interested in me

This is a little long, anon. Sorry in advance ❤️

Ugh. That’s upsetting. I’ve been through this before and it still stings even years later. like seriously, exact scenario. Besties to strangers overnight! She was always too busy for me, but none of her other friends.

I cried so much because I never got an answer as to why our friendship was ending or if I did anything. She just kind of…vanished. I think the worst was when I spent my birthday wishing for a message from her and never got one. That was about when I knew I was done. (I adopted my two kitties around that time to help me cope ❤️)

This sounds so corny, but it’s true. Make new friends. You will meet people who value you and you’ll be shocked at how much better you feel not having to pull someone’s teeth to be friends.

My now best friend of 3 years lives in a different state and we see each other maybe twice a year. We don’t talk every day, but we call each other and send TikTok’s to say “hey, you’re on my mind and I hope you have a lovely day!”….if your best friend wanted to be in your life, she would.

Do I still miss my old best friend? Absolutely. But I’m leaving her in the past. I don’t hate her, I don’t wish her any ill will, but I will continue to live my life without her. I deserve better than constant flakiness and shitty half assed apologies and texts.

And you do too.

Allow yourself to grieve, to feel what you need to. It’s not an easy thing to go through.

You are more than welcome to PM me, btw ❤️ wishing you all the best

#strang3lov3 #ask

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returntosaturn271995 · 1 year

Text

April 18th: Fricken Pissed Part 2: Reframing it.

Life is difficult, anger is normal. Let’s make this right in your eyes:

1. ChicExecs took my 10 page presentation and never emailed me back. I added a negative review to Glassdoor (among many already there) and somehow that just made me angrier?

Reframe: If you had worked for them, you would have had a super shitty experience. You dodged a bullet and now you just have another example of work to send people.

2. My interview (the third one) with Diff Eyewear was disorganized and I felt like the execs were sexist despite reaching out to me on Linkedin. GOD. Job hunting is bleak.

Reframe: If they move forward, ask for a fuck ton of money. If they don’t know what they’re doing, then they don’t know what you can’t do. These people can’t recruit for shit.

3. Marvelous Mrs. Maisel hasn’t been good since season 2

Reframe: You’ll always have those beloved seasons. Besides, there might be some watchable moments along the way. (cough Luke Kirby).

4. Pretty sure Effexor withdrawal gives me vivid nightmares and night sweats.

Reframe: Pretty sure Effexor is also what keeps me from taking a marinara bath after a hard day. All good things have prices.

5. Now that Scott’s back in Austin he never reached out again. Which is weird because he basically wanted to marry me before. I guess pussy power is about proximity.

Reframe: Life is long. He treated me like a queen when he was in town.

6. James hasn’t reached out since our date last week. After all the stuff he said about being so in to me. Maybe he’s just a bad texter because he’s always been like that but still. Am I allowed to be angry? Why does this make me like him more when two weeks ago I wasn’t even sure if I was that crazy about him?

Reframe: Well at least I’m hot. That’s the only explanation for why men go so crazy for me at the beginning. He’s also been out of town. He also spent over a hundred on dinner last week. Fuck it, let him self-select out. We used a condom.

7. I got drunk and sent my college roommate a nice text wishing her well on her engagement. Ugh I’m lame. No, she did not respond.

Reframe: At least your drunk texts are friendly. Saying kind stuff is still saying kind stuff. Also if you die first she’ll feel like a total bitch for not saying thank you.

8. Kate’s had a dude here for two days straight and he keeps using my and Hannah’s bathroom. He goes through toilet paper at an alarming rate. He’s either buidling a mummy costume or Kate’s dating another dude who lives in his van.

Reframe: In fairness to Katie she’s only dated one dude who lived in his van. Also he clearly makes her happy. And thank god he’s moving to Bali soon. Even if his suitcase is stuffed with my toilet paper.

9. Kara Godfrey. She’s just a shitty friend. And she reminds me of a lot of shitty friends. So I project a lot of anger at the idea of her. Sara sent us both a text today, which was actually very sweet of her. I’ll try and focus on that.

Reframe: Kara’s got her own problems and I did fuck her brother years ago. She may or may not know. She’s also kind of a bad friend to everyone.

10. Is it me? Why does it feel like it’s me? And why hasn’t therapy made me less annoying yet? I know I’m supposed to FEEL better, but I would sure love to be treated better and somehow deemed lovable.

Reframe: All this anger is more perceived rejection than anything else. So maybe it’s a good sign it pisses me off. Because honestly I’ve been working hard on myself goddamnit. I’m having my back here.

11. I was pretty shitty at yoga today. Maybe I’ll give it another shot now that I’ve hopefully journaled a chunk of my crazy out.

Reframe: I at least rolled out the mat and cat-cowed a little. A couple of months ago that would have been a fucking punchline. Who knows maybe I’ll do it again in a bit.

12. Once James messaged me and said “Why are you acting like a stranger?”. When he was the one who hadn’t reached out after our first date.

Reframe: So many men want to be chased and I aint doing it ‘lil mama. Lisa reached out to get pedicures, I’m going to hang with her instead.

13. I still haven’t made the goddamn smoothie I promised myself I would make. I bought the ingredients Saturday. Maybe I’ll put on a murder podcast and TRY.

Reframe: I put on the murder podcast and made two smoothies. I feel better/more hydrated now. Some of this anger may have been based on my working out on an empty stomach.

14. I was reading about Joe Biden and his first wife died in a horrible car crash right before Christmas that also took the life of his infant daughter. Yes, it was 50 years ago. Yes, I already new about this. But now I’m downloading his autobiography and just lamenting the fact the BAD THINGS HAPPEN TO GOOD PEOPLE AND DONALD TRUMP GETS TO DO WHATEVER THE FUCK HE WANTS.

Reframe: Donald Trump could still go to jail. Joe Biden eventually met Jill. Hold your families close and persevere. Still that story is so fucking awful. My problems aren’t that big.

15. Made the mistake of thinking too long on my walk home about a guy who took sexual advantage of me in college and realized that’s why I can’t stand soccer outside of a Ted Lasso episode. Idk why this is under the Mrs. Maisel season and yoga, but it is.

Reframe: I’m not alone. Soccer is boring. And I’m part of the cause that will improve the lives of future girls/women. Campus sexual assault is common, but that doesn’t mean it always has to be.

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high-fructose-dreamscape · 2 years

Text

Day 7

Be proud I’ve made it a week so far.

To end day 6, I ultimately played league all day. Unfortunately anybody I made plans with either forgot to message me back or were just busy.

To start day 7 it’s 2:27. I know I’m lonely but this for some reason hits different.

I think I struggle with the idea of coming to terms with how lonely I am. It’s a lot to take in. When I need immediate help I don’t have that and futuristic plans almost always fall through. It’s really hard to mentally manage.

I don’t have the energy to do both and so I feel like I need help. I can’t make both distant and close plans together. But I need both: as in I really do need social activities to work towards as goals: trips, dinner, movies, etc, but I also need the option of talking to someone just on a regular.

Most people seem too inconvenienced by conversation with me, as it takes them so long it makes me feel more than forgotten. I don’t like that. I don’t want to be a main priority but I don’t like waiting days for a conversation that I was invested in.

Hmm…

So I made it home. Reflecting on day 6, my life feels pretty empty lately. Without money to run the shop and any friends to hang with, I feel that I fall back into my constant video games and workout routine. Mentally I deteriorate and get spiteful. I need a happy medium. But then I look to myself and wonder what will be my other 6 reasons why.

Karaoke was decent to night. More on the dry side but I saw kat. Christa had me watch her. I got to sorta talk to Amanda though I’m starting to feel like she’s annoyed by me as she’s less interested in what I say compared to many other people she talks to.

Maybe I’m just as boring as I thought. I feel really shitty butt j tried my best tonight.

If I had to ask how to make it better, going home to something to call mine would make it better right now.

I’m sorry I’m just bitchy. I keep telling myself to breathe and to not be so whiny but I guess I’m just back to talking myself out of it. I’m scared again. I’m afraid I won’t do it right. It’s also the timing. I have to keep spacing it away so that I don’t mentally destroy a few people who lost loved ones recently.

Ugh. I fell asleep. Luckily I parked a block away so I wouldn’t be woken up.

I went to check my messages but I just got Walgreens calls. I want to message a friend to hang but honestly I’m just tired of rejection. Who’s gonna wanna spend time with me?

I’ve been searching through my social media and phone and I just lost interests. It’s depressing. I feel a sense of loneliness was over me as everything got cold.

I won’t tear up. I have to be strong.

It’s been about 2 hours now since I woke up. I’m spiteful and mean as the lonely thought keeps circulating my head.

I can’t help but feel angry. I’ve disappointed the little boy inside of me. The boy who just want to be with friends is forever alone.

I’ve lost interest in everything today. I barely eat. Maybe I’m the one who needs to be reminded to live.

I want to reach out but I don’t want to wait right now. I don’t want to fight for their attention.

I’m trying to be productive but I feel my chest get heavy. It’s beating harder. I close my eyes and try to clear my head but all I can think about is throwing everything away.

I promised I wouldn’t so soon. But I just hate this feeling. This pain in my chest is so strong. It’s the same pain I had when Gwen left. I feel this sting every time kinga does her thing. Everything got heavy. My head gets cloudy and I get anxious. I get tired and I feel my face tense.

A few deep breaths later I just feel tired.

I have to refine my plan. I tell myself that I’m the end it’ll be alright. I won’t have to worry about being alone here.

It’s honestly starting to sound more and more relieving to. It eases my pain more and more when I think about it. I’ve started picturing it. I’m gaining solace.

Tomorrow seems so close and long. I’m almost scared to work.

I need to toughen up right now. I feel the water run down my eyes again. I need to control my breathing. I’m getting light headed.

I wonder what people think of when they think of me. I wonder what my other reasons will be.

I’ll write later. I feel myself falling into the fade. I need a nap.

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loveletterstosomebody · 2 years

Text

8-17-2018

Dear future husband,

If you think the only times I write these ridiculous letters are on Valentine's Day and after I watch a corny rom-com, you are apple-fruitly right. So yes, I watched a very lame Netflix original from a bubble bath. And just know that this is only one piece of what I'm feeling. Summer is over, all my new friends went home, my bosses are out of town, I am very alone. And so very sad. I've always held most people at an arms length way, but I loved these guys hard. And they all got to go home to their families and friends, and I am here. I achieved a lot of great things here in the last year or so, but my lack of an ability to build community is crippling. Hmm, sometimes I wonder if coming here was the right decision. I've done great things but I've also done a lot of really stupid, shitty things. And while working through those things has helped me to re-establish my relationship with Christ, it's been painful. To say the least. And I am still 100% clueless about what I want to do next, or with my life at all. It's pretty hard to keep moving forward if you have no damn idea where you want to go. Why am I so self-sabotaging? My fear of failure and need of approval is maybe going to be the death of me. Anyways, I am 23 and single. So you have 9 months and 16 days to wife me up or you'll have to face a very angsty 7 year old me. 23 was the age I wanted to be married by. Ugh, I play too much, but all in good damn time. I am feeling especially impatient these days. I've seen some really cute weddings this year, and it makes me wonder about you. And while I am frustrated by my lack of you in my life, I also know that I do not want you to be a part of this very messy chapter of my life. I'd like to pull myself together a little better before I share my life with you. You, frankly, probably could not hang with the hot mess that is me these days. Hell, I can't even hang. I think that's why I've been drinking so much. Well, here's to getting my shit together and waiting patiently for you to come and rock my world. Hopefully, I will have an interesting job, strong community and whatever else you're supposed to have as a twenty-something. Or maybe you'll find me in even worse shape, lol. I am truly hoping this is rock-bottom for a very long time. I know I haven't peaked, I just hope you're there when it happens. Hope to know you soon, sweet man. Thanks for indulging all these stupid letters.

Yours always,

*name redacted* XOXO <3

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fanmoose12 · 2 years

Text

catch me if you can

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Erwin Smith, Kenny Ackerman

Genres: Mystery / Romance

Summary: The Ackerman duo. Just the mention of this name filled Hange with so many feelings. Mostly, when she reread the files of their cases over and over, until her eyes watered, she felt pricking annoyance. Sometimes, when she stared at the dead bodies of those scarce unfortunates who stumbled upon their crimes, she was filled with hatred and a pushing need for revenge. Hange couldn’t deny, however, there were times when she marveled at the impudence of their crimes. And, when she was investigating the Ackerman’s cases and saw just how meticulously planned they all were, she couldn’t help but feel something close to fascination. No one knew who they were. No one had seen their faces, no one knew their true names. Almost everyone knew of their crimes.Hange was determined to unravel every last one of their secrets. She will put an end to their crimes and then she will get the elusive Ackermans behind bars.

Chapter 18/19

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Сhapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Сhapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

“So we can either watch The Princess Diaries, Princess Bride, Princess Mononoke or—”

“Can we watch something without the word princess in the title?”

Ymir looked up from the screen of her phone long enough to throw Levi a glare. “No,” she said сurtly.

Levi clicked his tongue. Of course. He should have expected as much. The hell would freeze sooner than Ymir would agree with him at least on something.

“I just saw you scroll down Jurassic Park,” he told her, peeking at the phone over her shoulder. “Why can’t we watch that?”

“Because it’s an old, boring movie for old, boring men.” Whoa, she certainly had the gall to offend both the classic and him in one sentence. But before Levi could tell her where to stick her shitty opinions, Ymir added, “Besides, Historia doesn’t like that sort of movies.”

“I do!” she protested immediately, and quite fiercely. However, the fire inside her, as bright as it was, got extinguished swiftly enough too, as soon as she saw the looks that Ymir and Levi were giving her. Historia giggled rather awkwardly, stiffly pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. Her cheeks reddened prettily. “We can watch that movie but— I’d prefer if we skipped the parts where dinosaurs get hurt.”

Levi’s eyebrow went up. “So you condemn violence against dinosaurs, but are okay with them tearing people in pieces?”

His answer was another awkward giggle. Levi sighed tiredly. He never knew that young women were that weird. Although, he was, perhaps, the one with weirdness, and simply attracted similar people. Certainly, it certainly explained the meeting between him and Hange.

“Perhaps, instead of watching a movie, we can clean the house?” It was, for sure, in dire need of it. He seemed, however, the only one who took note of that. And, apparently, he also was the only one amongst those present that found relaxation in cleaning.

“Or we can talk,” Historia offered, smiling sweetly. That smile… it promised nothing good, and Levi didn’t like it, not one bit. He mentally braced himself for the inevitable. “I mean, you and detective Hange were pretty sweet today, but the day before, you were…”

“Oh yes,” Ymir joined, while Levi was basking in mortification. She put her phone down, and propped her cheek with a hand, turning to study him closely. “You were nearly at each other’s throats. I wonder what have changed between you two, and since you stole my bike, I deserve to know every bit of it.”

“Oh believe me,” Levi said grimly, a smirk pulling on his lips in anticipation of Ymir’s reaction, “you really don’t want to know what happened on your bike.”

“Ugh,” just as he had expected, the girl winced, her lips curled downwards in an expression of deep discontent. What he did not expect, however, was to feel two small hands squeezing his forearm and to hear an excited squeal. “Me! I want to know!”

Huh. The Reiss girl sure hid a lot of surprises behind that innocent, unassuming façade. Levi was actually intrigued by the contradictions that she was made up from. But as intrigued as he was about her, he wasn’t about to satisfy her intrigue.

Surely, Historia had a wild enough imagination to fill in all the blanks by herself.

“If you don’t want to talk about it,” she said, when his silence stretched for far too long, “maybe, you can tell us how the two of you had made up?”

God, these girls were relentless. Levi had a feeling that they wouldn’t back off until he gave them what they wanted. So… he surrendered, and mumbled, “I apologized…”

And the reward for his sincerity was a loud snort that came from Ymir. “You? Apologized? So the magic of love really does exist…”

What a brat, Levi was so fed up with her and her— but, luckily, Historia had his back this time.

“Ymir,” she scolded, with a disappointed shake of her head. In reply, Ymir huffed, but, to Levi’s astonishment, puckered her lips and kept her mouth shut. So it was that easy to rein Ymir in? He was starting to like Historia more and more… “Please,” she then turned to him, granting him another one of her sugary smiles, “Tell us what happened after.”

“I brought four-eyes to a skating rink,” he said, all the while wondering how in the world a world class thief like him ended up in the room with two young girls, who appeared way too invested in his personal life. Which, apparently, he now had. “She wanted to go there for a really long time, and well…”

“Ah!” Historia clasped her hands, then pressed them to her chest. She sighed dreamily, staring at Levi with eyes bright from admiration. “You really are romantic! Detective Hange is—”

“Shh,” rising a hand, Levi cut the girl off. When Ymir seemed like she wanted to lash out at him for shutting up her girlfriend, Levi shut her up too, with just one look.

It wasn't just a whim of his, not an attempt to escape the uncomfortable conversation, even though it could have been nothing, it most probably was, but he heard a car approaching the house. And whoever it was – Hange and Kenny who returned way too swiftly, or, more worryingly, someone else – they set off all of his internal alarms.

Gesturing for the girls to stay put, Levi slowly rose from the couch and started to cautiously move towards the window. It overlooked the front yard, and when he looked out of it, body pressed tightly against the wall, to make sure that he himself remained unseen, his heart got lodged in his throat.

A car was parked near the house. And it wasn’t Kenny’s beat-up sedan.

Long, black and with tinted windows, the van looked like it could belong to police, and that could mean only one thing.

Whether he was aware of their plan or not, Reiss made his move.

“Stay here,” Levi mouthed to the girls, and set on towards the front door. Four men had exited the van, and if he doesn’t stop them—

He had to stop them.

On his way, he picked up an empty bottle that Kenny hadn’t bothered to carry to the trash can. It was not the best weapon, far from it, but… since the time was the luxury he could not afford right now, he had to make due with what he had.

What he had was a mere beer bottle, however… Levi had done more with less.

When he reached it, the door began to shake from the furious pounding. No one said a word, however, and the loud thumping grew even more intense; ah, so their guests – whoever they were – didn’t even try to pretend to be friendly, or polite.

Oh well, it just made Levi’s task easier.

He waited, back flash against the wall, for the door to surrender under the forceful onslaught. As soon as it did, nearly flying off its hinges, Levi was in motion, pouncing on the unwelcome guests.

The first one to tumble over the threshold received a bottle to the head. The clatter produced by the breaking glass got overwhelmed by the assailant’s loud, delightfully vicious curse.

The second guest was not far behind, already swinging his fist at Levi. But Levi was ready for it, whirled to face him— and stuck the shattered bottle into his forearm. This one did not simply cursed, he roared, hollered in pain.

Levi rejoiced in the sound.

With his only weapon gone and lost, arose the need to find a replacement. Nothing peculiar stood out, and with a discontented clink of his tongue, Levi met the third attacker with nothing but his fist as protection.

That man was large, burly, and dodging his attack was laughably easy. Skipping behind his back and out of his line of sight, Levi kicked the back of the man’s knee with all of his might, waited for the man to fall down, then grabbed him by the hair, smashing his face against the wall.

The result was messy, disgusting, Levi had to jump back to avoid getting the man’s spit and blood on his shoes. The man gurgled something, far beyond intelligible, and spat out a broken tooth.

Levi cringed at the sight, effortlessly evaded the hand that was moving – too slowly – to seize his ankle, and shook his head. That was why he preferred the stealth approach. Nearly not as messy.

He checked himself in the mirror, making sure no blood – or god forbid, spit – got on his face, lowered his eyes to his shirt and pants for the very same purpose, ignoring the voice, which was growing all more insistent and sounded too much like Hange, chiding him for being a clean freak.

The sound of a shoe squeaking against the parquet was quiet, and yet sudden enough to break Levi out of his reverie instantly.

He was a little too late to do anything, though.

The man – the fourth one, how could he forget there were four of them, so infinitely careless of him – came at Levi from the behind, proving to be the smartest one of their bunch. Too quickly, seemingly effortlessly, he seized Levi, squeezed his throat until stars began dancing before his eyes, then, before Levi could even think to retaliate, he pressed a white cloth against his face.

Slight, too sweet smell entered his nostrils. That smell, along with a panicked ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’ were the last flickers of his consciousness, before it glimmered and faded into black.

___

The booming bang reverberated off the walls, the whole house shaking with it.

Not good, Ymir decided, giving Historia’s arm another tug. “C’mon, princess, we have to—” another noise rang from the hallway, this one much quieter and with complete silence following after it. Shit, it looked like their last defender was done for. Her hold on Historia became more insistent. “Run, we have to—”

“You,” surprisingly firm, with authority Ymir never noticed in her, Historia pushed her back, freeing the wrist from her fingers. “You have to go, Ymir. They’re looking for me and it’s me—”

“Princess, if you think I can just let you—”

Fingers pressed against her mouth cut Ymir off. “You have to,” Historia said and rose to her toes to leave a kiss to the place where her fingers were moments ago, “It’s me they’re after, they won’t stop until they find me and…” she faltered, face twisting, “bring me to my father. Perhaps, it’s time I’ve stopped running, and meet him at last.”

“Princess…”

“And you,” Historia put a finger to Ymir’s chest, showing her the most innocently sly smirk she had the pleasure of kissing, “Hurry up and save me.”

“Roger that, princess,” it wouldn’t be easy, certainly wouldn’t be safe, but Ymir… got a few ideas on how to get all of them out of this mess. But while she worked on it, she needed… “Be safe, alright?” she pulled Historia closer, burying the face into her hair and inhaling the sweet, sweet aroma of her strawberry shampoo. “And give them hell.”

“I’ve learnt from the best,” Historia smiled – too wistfully for Ymir’s own smirk not to waver – and took a step back, pushing her away. “Now go, and—”

Ymir nodded, the remnants of her strength almost too small to turn away. She seized whatever remained, though, to take a step back and look away. “I’ll do my best,” she promised, and left the room, just in time to escape notice.

She closed her eyes, as the sounds of struggle ensued, and rushed to the back door, hands twisted into fists inside the pockets of her blazer.

Take care, princess, she implored, as she run through the exit and towards her bike. She hopped onto it, starting the engine without a second of protraction. She rode out on the road, the destination clear in her mind.

Hopefully, she’d be able to recognize the man she needed, despite the dim lightning of a bar, where she had met him.

Take care, Historia, and wait for me.

___

When Levi peeled his eyes back open, he was met with darkness, deep and seemingly endless. As much of an obstacle as it was, though, it also gave him an advantage – heightened his senses and allowed him to gain a better understanding of his surroundings.

He was bound, wrists snugly fit against one another, with a thick bundle of rope keeping them close, and with legs crossed at the ankle and wrapped in rope too; he was moving – it wasn’t easy at first, but with enough focus, he managed to pick up on the roaring of the engine and sounds of the city, going about its life somewhere beyond his place of confinement; he also was not alone – someone, he already made a pretty solid guess as to who, sat next to him, shivering like a leaf.

“Historia,” he called, no louder than an exhale. The darkness might seem all-encompassing and empty, but he couldn’t know who listened to him. Better not to give their captors one more advantage. “Are you alright?”

The girl shifted, shoulder moving against his. “I’m fine,” she too spoke softly, and— with surprising calmness. “And you?”

His head throbbed, hair felt sticky, wet against his temple – the son of a bitch that chloroformed him probably decided to follow his orders thoroughly and make absolutely sure that he’d remain unconscious. “Not the best of my days,” he told Historia, “but Kenny’ll get us out of this. If not, then—” then Hange, smart, decisive, stubborn as a bull Hange, his four-eyes, would come for them. If she almost caught him and Kenny, Reiss never stood a chance against her, Levi was sure.

“They’ll get us out,” he repeated, lamenting that his hands were bound. When faced with a crisis like that, head pats were essential, calming down kids like Historia in no time. Sasha, Connie and Jean taught him that. But with his movements severely restricted, he could only bump his shoulder against hers and hope it’d be enough. “Don’t worry,” he said, not a shadow of doubt tinting his voice.

Naturally, he didn’t worry either. Not in the slightest.

___

Levi had never seen Kenny like this. Not once – not since he stepped on that slippery path of following in uncle’s footsteps, and definitely not before, when he was just a kid and Kenny pretended he was a simple uncle with an ordinary job – he had seen him like this: with a mouth open in a silent gasp, and not curled up in the ever present smirk, full of contempt, with eyes wide, not narrowed wittingly, with gaze filled with incomprehension and terror, instead of quiet complacence, with cheeks not red from one beer too many, but pale, nearly ashen.

When Reiss’ men led Levi inside, all signs of the cockiness that Kenny was known for, vanished. He looked like a man in utter despair, who had committed the biggest mistake of his life and was now witnessing his most terrible fear come to life.

Briefly – in the short heartbeat that passed between Kenny assessing the situation and him lowering the gun helplessly – Levi wondered if his uncle wore the same expression on the day that his mother died.

He remembered it vividly - the sharp bite of a snow that greeted him, when he ran on the porch, the bubbling excitement that the prospect of spending time with his ma filled him with, the shape of a snowman that he had already built in his mind as he ran upstairs, taking two stairs at a time, eager to get to ma’s bedroom and ask for a trip to the park. Even the tiny details were sharp in his mind, the feel of a handle enclosed in his small palm, the soft grunt that slipped out of him, as he struggled to turn it, the trickle of blood that he stepped in as soon as he passed over the threshold. That day was etched into him deeply, revisited frequently, despite the pain it provoked. Levi could still see it – ma on the floor, in the pool of her own blood, hand outstretched – as though towards him, her pale, pale face contorted in the expression of pain. He knew, still carried with him every inch and line of her final appearance, but how Kenny looked like that day, when he found him, still in the bedroom, clutching his ma’s palm fervently, voice hoarse from begging her to wake up, what face he was wearing— Levi’s mind failed to register.

Looking at Kenny now, though, he could restore what his memory was missing.

“You thought yourself so clever,” Reiss mocked, revealing in how downright dumbfounded Kenny now appeared, “You thought you’d steal one daughter from me, set another against me… but guess what,” his lips curled in a smile, so smug it was making Levi nauseous. “Now I’ve got your nephew instead. A kid for a kid…” he tapped the forefinger against his lip wistfully, “It’s only fair, don’t you think?”

Levi expected a violent retort from Kenny. Expected shouts, ridicules thrown at Reiss, loud laughter ringing through the empty ballroom, a shot following immediately after that. But Kenny did none of those things. He didn’t speak, hardly moved, and his eyes seemed unwaveringly focused on the gun pressed to the back of Levi’s head.

“Didn’t know you’d betray us,” he said, at last, casting a brief, somber look at Frieda. “Thought you’d be a less piece of shit than your daddy.”

“I didn’t know,” despite Kenny’s foul words, Frieda didn’t appear to be angry. Not at him, at least. “He fooled me as well.”

Dressed in burgundy gown, with jewels adorning her neck, unshed tears glistening in the corners of her amethyst eyes, mixing with the fury she aimed at her father, Frieda’s words seemed earnest. If they were not, what was point of pretending now, when it became clear that Reiss had them beat?

Alas, it looked like they were not the only ones the rich fucker had screwed over. It was a small compensation, but one Levi couldn’t help but appreciate.

“I’d keep my mouth shut if I were you, child,” Reiss retorted, face growing red with anger as his eyes met Frieda’s. “Going behind my back, conspiring against me… had I not given you enough?”

“You had given,” Frieda leveled, voice freezing cold, “but just as often you’ve taken away. You wish to take away even my sister…”

“Sister, bah!” Reiss chortled, “You barely know her, but don’t you worry… once I take care of this mess, little Historia will get us what she deserves too.”

“And what would that be?” Historia cried out, defiant despite the hands that held her and a gun that didn’t move from its place on the back of her head. “What do I deserve, father?”

With a click of his tongue, and barely a glance in her direction, Reiss faced Kenny once more.

“Do you know what brought your demise?” Reiss said, his need to mock and ridicule not quite sated yet, “Do you know what ruined it all?”

Kenny stood, still as a statue, nose raised up high, but when Levi lowered his eyes, he saw that uncle’s fingers began to tremble. Fuck, what was taking four-eyes so long?

“Do enlighten me,” Kenny replied, words characteristically sneering, yet voice uncharacteristically hollow.

Reiss seemed beyond eager to oblige. “It’s the sentimentality, my old friend. First, you came to hide into that old house, the one my brother was gracious enough to gift you. You stayed there, even after I gave you a hint that I know about it. You care too much for your sister’s kid, and that gives me leverage over you. And you,” Reiss promptly whirled around, hands clasped behind his back as he regarded Levi studiously, “have you not fallen for that detective, have she not insisted on sticking by your side… I would have never found your hiding place. Speaking of our lovely detective… should we give her a call? She’s taking far too long to make an appearance.”

He patted Levi on the cheek condescendingly, smiling so sweetly it made his skin crawl. That curl of the lips was already familiar, too much alike Historia’s, but lacking all the warmth and sincerity that hers possessed.

Levi bared his teeth at Reiss, with so much fury in his expression that in his haste to retreat, Reiss nearly fell back on his ass.

Well… at least, one good thing happened during this exchange. And when Hange would get there, Levi had no doubt – she’d make things even better.

___

“You have two options – you can either continue with that genius plan of yours, or you can lose them both. The choice is yours.”

Those words boomed inside Hange’s head, bounced around, rang loudly, noisily, drowning out every other thought. The choice was hers, or so Reiss had said. But what should she choose, how could she choose when it wasn’t her life that was at stake.

Rational, a deep voice, a strange incomprehensible mix of Levi’s and Erwin’s, appeared, overturning Reiss, you’ve got to be rational, keep your head cool. Don’t panic, and don’t go into fucking hysteria, he has more than enough advantage as it fucking is. The last bit sounded too much like Levi, and miraculously, it seemed to help her the most.

Hange curled her fingers tightly, clenched them into fists to stop them from trembling, and faced Reiss squarely, staring him down with chest puffed and chin raised high.

Really, what was she thinking, she nearly started to panic. What could she do, what should she choose… It was hardly the time to make choices, considering she still knew so little.

“If I put a stop to my genius plan…” Hange appeared almost cocky, as she started to pace back and forth, following Reiss with her eyes, outwardly not perturbed by his men, her colleagues. Oh well, she’d get to this mess later. “What would happen to Historia? And to Levi?”

She left her gaze sweep across his form, for no more than a moment, but even that was too much, a mistake that left her shaking – with both worry and fury. Levi’s face was a mess, roughed up and bruised, blood caking the side of his head. She’d make Reiss pay for that too, but before that—

“I care not for the Ackerman boy,” Reiss replied flippantly, “I planned for him to go to jail alongside his uncle, but if he turns out to be less of a nuisance and will keep his nose out of my business… I’ll let him live freely.” He paused, flashed Hange a smile, “As a gift for you, detective.” Hange inwardly cringed, swallowing down a curse and a mouthful of bile. “As for Historia, though….”

That pause, and the things it insinuated… it decided everything for Hange. There would be no deal, at least, not on Reiss’ current terms.

But what could she do to turn it all in her favor…

Anything sudden, anything crazy, which was her style, was out of question. One wrong move, one wrong look, and the end would be quick. Very loud, and tragic.

As a policeman, as a lover, she could not allow it.

But if that was out of question, if actions could not grant them all a way out of this, another path must be created.

What actions can’t solve, words usually – hopefully – do. And, as one extremely annoying, yet undeniably wise Kenny Ackerman said, “If you’re not armed, doesn’t mean, you can’t do harm.”

The phrase still made Hange cringe, insufferably so, but— she kinda had to agree with its message.

And while it certainly wasn’t her best work, nearly not on par with the scheme she pulled along with Traute, or Erwin’s general genius, the plan began to form in her mind. It was far from being finished – just the beginning, a bit of a middle, and a total blank on the ending result, however— Hange was optimistic. She was always good at improvising.

She turned to Levi then, locked eyes with him, trying to communicate what was to come. She needed him to pass that information along to his uncle; the last time she executed a brilliant plan of hers, she ended up in a hospital with a bullet in her shoulder. She wasn’t really keen on repeating that experience.

Although, anything could happen, after she opened her mouth. So Hange decided to not hesitate, and took a deep breath, calming her nerves and getting inside the air she’d need for her next speech, her performance.

She hoped this one would be believable. If not – then, at the very least, entertaining.

It was a good thing she wasn’t just a detective.

___

Kenny watched, baffled, that cop of Levi’s. He thought – naively, in hindsight, he knew who he was partnering with, after all – that after Reiss revealed that he had laid a trap on their trap, nothing would be able to faze him.

But, of course, one detective Hange Zoe was involved and she was chock-full of surprises.

He was aware of her for a while now – heard about her before she became Levi’s cop, and was just a nasty cop, nose deep in their case. She was astonishing, vexing, even back then. A cop who not only didn’t drop their case after a couple of failures, but the one, who kept chasing after them, in spite of it all. A cop, who actually cared about something, except their ego and greed.

And then Levi spoke of his date, of someone who finally was worth his attention, and Kenny saw damn stars in his eyes, when he talked about her. Never before, he had seen his nephew look like this, downright love-struck, and Kenny was sure – he’d never again see him go so crazy about anyone else. A person who had his grump of a nephew so tightly wrapped around their finger so soon must be a real work of art, determined and driven, with patience thick enough to get through all those walls that surrounded Levi’s heart. And, really, Kenny should have connected the dots long ago. In their city, in the whole world perhaps, there were not a lot of people, who could be as annoyingly stubborn as one Hange Zoe.

It was admiring, in a way. And also, irritating to no fucking end.

But the cop and Levi were— a thing now, she actually got through to him, and gained herself a large place inside Levi’s heart. Kuchel would have been ecstatic to meet her, of that Kenny was sure. Even he felt himself warm up to the nuisance a little, despite all the aversion he had for all of her colleagues.

Just a little, though. Or she could, god forbid, become too cocky, or, so, so much worse – affectionate with him. It’d be nice, however, he thought belatedly – to see more of them together, to see more of Levi being in love.

The kid certainly deserved it.

But did Hange deserve the same? The jury inside Kenny’s mind was still out about it, and they all raised to attention, when the pesky nuisance Kenny had just started to enjoy bantering with, waltzed into the middle of a room, with hands clasped behind her back, and wide, grateful smile on her face.

Kenny watched, blinking slowly, trying to make sense. The seconds trickled by, Zoe almost reached Reiss, but the answer still hasn’t formed in his head.

He glanced at Levi, seeking help, and he— simply shrugged, seemingly unperturbed. Kenny’s thought bundled into a convoluted knot. If Levi was so calm, so undisturbed, had he and cop discussed this line of events? Was it a part of a plan? Of an old or a new one?

What the hell was going on?

___

Hange strode forward confidently, a smile on her face just a little too wide, but as of now – and Levi checked once again the reaction of each enemy present – no one seemed to take note of her unnatural expression.

He watched, something akin to pride swelling inside, as Hange reached Reiss and clasped his shoulder joyfully.

“Thank you,” she said heartily, putting her whole soul into those two words. The tension in the room rose, everyone stood on high alert, speechless, unmoving, seemingly afraid to draw a breath that’d be too loud. The tautest stance belonged to Kenny; Levi threw a quick, warning glance at him, imploring to go along with whatever was going in that brilliant head of Hange’s. “You truly are a man of honor,” she continued, making Levi cringe inwardly. As brilliant as she was, she was starting to oversell it all just a bit. However, it was lost on Reiss entirely – he stared at Hange with eyes open a fraction wider and mouth parted, stunned into silence. “And of great virtue. You’re granting my sweet, lovely,” yeah, she was definitely overselling it now, “Levi freedom and a chance to start anew. How can I refuse such a deal?”

She fell then, quite literally on Reiss’ chest, and wrapped her arms around him, caging him in a tight embrace. The whole room had their breaths stolen, and Kenny’s shoulders hunched, as he glared at Hange’s back.

Levi locked eyes with him immediately, shook his head discreetly, and turned back to the unraveling scene. The drama – it seemed – was escalating.

“You’re so kind to me, and my darling,” Hange whispered, vehemently, feverish almost. “And yet,” she paused, flashed Levi a look and curled her lips up in grin so mischievous, it was downright obscene. Levi’s answering smile was no less sly. “You’re so cruel to your own daughters. Poor Frieda is shaking and in tears, and little Historia…”

The reaction was immediate, and quite violent; Levi had to be put in place to cease his instinctive attempts to get to Hange and protect her.

“They get what they deserve!” Reiss pushed Hange back, then pulled her in by an iron hold on her wrist. He kept her in place, eyes boring furiously into her. “The insolent girl should know better than try and go against me! I control every inch of this city, and she thinks to oppose me? To side with an enemy? How preposterous, the girl knows no shame! I knew of their plan as soon as it was formed. And that one—” he waved a dismissive hand towards Historia. “Good for nothing! Whore’s child!”

“Your child,” Hange rasped, grinning still, despite her predicament, “It was you who couldn’t keep it in your pants.”

Reiss struck her, across the face, the sound reverberated from the walls, echoing loudly in the large room.

“Know your place, detective. You’re as much under my control as everyone else. I can lift but a finger,” instead he lifted a hand, outstretching it to grab a gun from one of the cops that surrounded Historia. He held it tightly, knowingly, and slowly moved it, until its barrel stared at the place between Hange’s eyes.

The deep, sticky fear filled Levi’s heart, spread to his throat, choking him. Did four-eyes’ plan always ended with her getting a bullet? He couldn’t let it happen. He couldn’t— he wouldn’t beg another loved one to return back to him.

His gaze shifted to Kenny, searching for guidance from him, but in a room of armed people, one man with a gun, even as brilliant at it as Kenny, could do nothing more than watch.

Fuck. They were deep in shit now, and, of course, that stupid four-eyes simply had to attract all danger to herself. If— after they get out of it, he’d fucking kill her with his own hands for making him worry so.

“You fell silent, detective,” Reiss smirked, gloating without shame, “For once, you have no words?”

As it turned, however, this time, words were not needed. The door burst open quite forcefully, and— completely unexpected.

Levi stared, eyes wide, as Captain Erwin fucking Smith strolled in, his team hot on his heels. Despite deep gratitude, a groan slipped from Levi’s lips. Did that guy had to be better than him at absolutely everything?

Levi was so lucky that for some strange, yet wonderful reason Hange fell for him, and not her fucking superhero of a boss.

“Halt, Mister Reiss!” he shouted, voice mighty and formidable. Just as the rest of him. What a show-off he was. Although, tonight— Levi was as happy to see him as ever. “You’re under arrest for the assault of the officer! Keep your hands up, where I can see them!”

The moment was perfect, Reiss was caught red-handed, and he was so fucked. Levi’s gloating knew no limits, as he watched Erwin force him to drop the gun and kneel, a safe distance away from Hange.

At the sight of Erwin’s golden aura, Reiss’ men stood back too. Almost synchronically, they released Levi and Historia, heads bowed down and eyes cast to the side; what part of them weren’t filled with fear was taken over by shame. Served them right, Levi thought bitterly, rolling his stiff shoulders. It was quite obvious that these men would receive no real punishment. But, at the very least, they got a good scare.

After the rest of Erwin’s team trickled inside the room, all of them busy with apprehending Reiss, Ymir snuck in, making a direct bee-line for Historia. The two hugged joyfully, then started to make out passionately; Levi averted his eyes in distaste – couldn’t Ymir keep her hands to herself, at least once? – and shameful sense of envy – Hange was still out of his reach, in the arms of Erwin, that giant of a bully Mike and her only nice friend, Nanaba.

Levi watched them, failing to convince not only the ones who were present, but even himself that he wasn’t sulking.

It was a long, stressful night. Didn’t he deserve a hug (and, preferably a kiss) too?

As always, though, it got worse way before it could become better.

“Gentlemen,” Kenny spoke quietly, yet his deep rumble still rang through the room. Levi hurried towards him, however his idiot of an uncle continued, before he had the chance to tackle him down and shut his stupid mouth. “I may have a statement you’d be eager to receive…”

At that, Erwin turned a questioning look at Hange, and in reply she gave a shrug, and a squeeze to his shoulder. Then, at last, she walked over, crossing what distance was between them, and fell heavily against Levi’s side.

“Your uncle…” Hange whispered, so no one but him would hear, “He’s really going to go through with it? Does he not know that he now doesn’t have to?”

Of course, Kenny must know that there was no point in surrendering to the police anymore. The fucker was as shrewd as they come, however— maybe he really viewed prison as sort of vacation house. Or he wanted to get the aim off their backs that much, or, as ludicrous as it sounded, Kenny was lonely too. And where else he could find himself someone he could connect with?

Whatever was his reason, Levi was sure of one thing – uncle would never reveal it. And he wouldn’t waver from his decision as well. If he was so adamant about it— Levi wouldn’t be able to change his mind anyway.

He wrapped an arm around Hange, drained all of a sudden. This night certainly took its toll on him, but— he still had enough strength left in him to pinch her side, even if the gesture was weak and half-hearted.

“Pull something like that shit again,” he grunted, looking at her smiling face beneath his eyebrows. Damn, but she was beautiful, even if crazy. He was so lucky, so in love. “And I’m breaking up with you.”

“Oh?” Hange arched an eyebrow, gleeful, radiant, and – thank god – alive. “Since when we’re dating?”

He looked up, pretended to be deep in thought and willed his voice not to shake. “Since I repeatedly bruised my ass while skating with you.”

“Huh,” Hange giggled, before she took his face in her hands and nuzzled her nose against his. The gesture was— disgustingly cheesy, and yet so sweet that he wished Hange to repeat it, again and again and—

And, oh, apparently he had no right to judge Ymir. He had it just as bad for Hange as she - for Historia.

Strangely, though, Levi wasn’t complaining. In the slightest. But one question still remained unresolved.

“That plan of yours…” he didn’t pinch her side this time, instead opting for a different approach – brushing his lips against hers and then pulling away, making Hange chase after him. And this one, oh, it was so much more effective. He’d have to remember it. “Did you know that your boss was coming?”

“Um?” it took Hange a moment to shift her gaze from his lips and focus it on his eyes. Levi’s heart swelled, tingling with affection. “Did I know about Erwin… no, how could I? It probably was Ymir who called him.”

All breath was punched out of him, and Levi was left empty, staring at Hange completely baffled. “How— why did you pull out that shit then? You could have gotten shot!”

She almost was, and the mere thought— made him nauseous. They were so going to work on those reckless tendencies of hers.

“I’m not sure he had it in him…” Levi wanted to groan. The man was ready to kill his own daughter, just to keep her existence a secret. And Hange doubted that he’d shoot her? She was supposed to be the smart one. But apparently smart not always meant wise. “Besides, it ended well, didn’t it?”

“Luckily,” Levi grumbled, disgruntled. “Your skit was embarrassing, by the way. Is that what they taught you in drama club?”

“I was one of the best…” she said, pouting. The need to kiss that pout away was overwhelming. So Levi did not fight it. He pressed his lips to hers once, twice, until he felt the beginnings of her smile.

He pulled back then, and tucked his head in the crook of her neck. “Your place or mine?”

Hange chuckled, fingers carding gently through his locks. “We’d have to take a look on your injuries first.” Oh right, in her arms, he all but forgot about his bleeding head. “And after that… definitely my place,” she threw a look behind her back, at Kenny who was still being questioned by Erwin and Mike. “Who knows your uncle, he might escape from prison just for a chance to embarrass us.”

“I’m sure the poster boy,” Levi sent Erwin a glare, who shot back – the asshole – a smug smile, “Will keep watch over him. But before we leave, I need to—”

“I know,” she nodded, “Take as much time as you need, I’ll wait.”

Encouraged by her gentle tone, Levi let go of her and left her side. The room was alight with activity – some policemen were questioning Historia and Ymir, some walked around with chin gripped by their fingers, searching for clues. He slipped between them like a shadow, swiftly approaching Kenny.

He was already waiting, alone in the dim-lighted corner of the room, with no sign of Mike or Erwin around. The smirk was back in its rightful place, and Levi exhaled with relief at the sight of it. That expression suited Kenny so much better, was so much more familiar.

As Levi finally reached him, Kenny whistled approvingly. “Ditched your sweetheart to come and say goodbye to your old man? I can’t decide if that’s admirable or downright pathetic.”

“Don’t think about it too much,” Levi huffed, rolling his eyes. “Straining your brain like that can’t be good for your ancient brain.”

“Ha ha,” Kenny deadpanned. “You’re hilarious, kiddo. Your cop fed that joke to you?”

“No,” Levi felt his lips twitch, in spite of himself. He quickly schooled his expression back into neutral one, though. Showing that much emotion to Kenny would just give him another reason for mockery. “My sense of humor was inherited from you.”

“A good one!” Kenny guffawed, delivering a rather mighty slap to Levi’s back. “But I have to go now,” he said, eyes flicking to all the policemen that gathered in the room. “Take care, Levi, and,” he paused, to wink and ruffle his hair. This time, Levi allowed him. “Cause some trouble! Don’t become boring!”

Only once Kenny left, did Levi let himself smile. And instantly – warms arms were hugging his shoulders; he was getting so used to this. It was a good thing, he decided.

“Ready to leave?” Hange all but crooned, bending over to steal another kiss from him. Levi permitted her, despite all the looks that everyone was giving them.

Shame became a forgotten emotion, as adoration for Hange settled in.

He was so in love, and at last— so damn happy about it.

“I’m ready,” he said, and now, he really was.

#stay tuned! for the little cute epilogue that hopefully will come out very very soon!#levihan

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andvys · 3 years

Text

Longing (part 3)

Warnings: lots of angst, violence, reader having self doubts, a sprinkle of fluff

Pairing: Ellie Williams x reader

You woke up to loud knocking the next day. Pissed off you got out of bed, who was at your door at 7 am in the morning on your day off? You walked over opening the door you were greeted by Jesse standing there, leaning against the door frame. Immediately straightening up at the sight of him, you thought he was gonna flip out on you the way Ellie did last night.

“Finally, I thought I was about to freeze to death out here.” You stepped to the side letting him in.

“Umm you know it’s my day off right?” Annoyed you fell back on your bed again.

“Yeah not anymore, sorry about that. I need a patrolling partner and I chose you, sorry.” He said, looking at you with a guilty expression.

“Ugh are you serious? What’s wrong with your partner?” You sat up on the bed, looking at him.

“Ellie’s not feeling good today.”

“Tell me about it.” You mumbled. So she wasn’t feeling good, funny she gave you a whole hatred speech, made you feel like shit and now you had to fill in for her but she was the one who felt like shit. Of course.

“Alright, you owe me something.”

“Wrong, Ellie owes you something.”

“Umm yeah no, you were the one who chose me to be your patrol partner not Ellie so... not like you have much to offer but yeah.”

“I could offer you an unforgettable night with me.” He joked.

“Ugh shut up man.” Throwing a pillow at him you went into the bathroom to get changed.

Stepping out in the cold you immediately gave Jesse a death glare for making you go out into the cold today even though you were supposed to have a free day. He smiled at you, patting your shoulder.

“Come on, let’s get this over with.”

“Yeah whatever”

“We won’t be going on our usual patrol routes today, we’re gonna head to one of the small towns, check for some supplies.” Jesse said.

“Oh alright, haven’t done that in a while.” You said.

“Then it’s about damn time.”

Once you got to one of the small towns, closest to Jackson, you went into an old police station, knowing it was probably picked clean already but it didn’t hurt to check.

Checking the drawers, Jesse came into the room and sat on of the old office chairs. Looking at you, you avoided his eyes. You knew he was about to ask you something.

“So (y/n)..” there it was he was gonna ask about Dina.

“There’s nothing going in between me and Dina if that’s what you wanna ask.” You said while rummaging through the drawers.

“I- how did you know I was gonna ask anything about Dina?” Looking up at Jesse “I just do”

He noticed you avoided looking into his eyes.

“It’s none of my business if the two of you are together, we’re broken up.” He stated, looking sad about saying this.

“I- why does everyone think I’m with Dina?!” You asked, getting angry now, you still felt like shit about yesterday and now you were gonna get accused of something you didn’t do again.

“Aren’t you? I mean with her?” Jesse looked at you, confused about your reaction.

“No! What even makes you think that?”

“Well you were with her all this time, sleeping over at her house and I kinda saw you two kissing.” He said. Looking at him you got up and sat on the table.

“Okay hold up, I slept over because she was feeling like shit, she’s feeling sick lately and she was throwing up all night so I took care of her, I didn’t want to leave her alone while she looked like she’d die any second.” You said.

“Oh I didn’t know about that, she okay now?”

“Yeah she’s good now and the kiss? She thanked me for taking care of her and she gave me a kiss on the cheek that’s all.” You got up, walking out of the room you weren’t in the mood to talk any longer.

Jesse sat there thinking about it, it looked like you two kissed. To be fair he drank too much that night and he saw you two in front of Dinas house and from the angle you two were standing it did look like an actual kiss. “Shit I’m so stupid.”

Getting up he walked out of the room to follow you out, hearing a crash and your yell it sounded like you were fighting something or someone. He ran towards the noise, worried about you.

“(Y/n) you okay?” Walking around the corner he was met by the side of you standing there with a gun to your head. A man standing behind you with his arm around your neck and a gun to your temple. You lip was bleeding and it looked like you had a cut on your forehead.

“Don’t fucking move or your girl here dies.” Jesse put his hands up in surrender.

“What do you want?” Jesse asked the man.

“What I want? You break into my town and ask me what I want?!” He started waving the gun around. This man was definitely crazy and he was probably gonna shoot the both of you.

“We didn’t know anyone lived here.” You said through gritted teeth, annoyed at this whole situation. You were still pissed since yesterday and now you had to deal with this bullshit.

“Shut up you stupid bitch.” As if you didn’t wanna kill him already, he looked like a disgusting rapist and that’s what he probably was.

“Hey whoa no need for insults man” Jesse said, getting angry at the stranger for calling you a bitch. The man turned his gun on Jesse now.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do, I’ll let you live boy, get your stuff and leave and imma keep this one to myself.” He grinned at Jesse, showing off his disgusting yellow teeth

“Yeah I don’t think so man.” Jesse said. The man grunted at that going to pull the trigger, you didn’t give him a chance. Headbutting him, you heard the loud cracking of his nose. He let the gun fall down, letting you go he clutched his bleeding nose.

He looked up at you. “You fucking bit-“ not letting him finish, Jesse shot him in the head. Coming up beside you he grabbed your face checking your injuries. “Man I’m so sorry (y/n).” He said.

“It’s fine, he’s dead. Let’s get the hell out of here before more come.” You said grabbing the gun from the dead guy, leaving the building.

Jesse watched you go out, worried about you he ran after you.

“Hold up (y/n), let me clean your wounds, you probably need some stitches.” He said grabbing your arms turning you around making you look at him, he noticed tears in your eyes. “Hey what’s going on?” You tried blinking the tears away but it was to late, the first one falling down already.

“I’m sorry Jesse.” He looked worriedly at you. “I’m sorry for making you think that I got in between you and Dina, I would never do something like that.” He knew this wasn’t the only reason you were crying and he felt bad for even assuming that you were with Dina.

“You got nothing to be sorry for (y/n), I should be the one who’s sorry for even thinking that.” He pulled you into a hug. You were one of his best friends and he made you feel like shit.

“Ellie called me a home wrecker.” Pulling away you looked up at him.

“What?”

“Yeah and she said some pretty hurtful stuff too.” You said, feeling more tears building up in your eyes, you looked down not wanting him to see you cry anymore.

“Oh man come here.” He pulled you in for another hug. “That’s my fault (y/n), I felt like shit and I talked to her about Dina and you.” He felt bad, he didn’t know what Ellie told you but it must’ve been really bad if it made you cry like that. He’s never seen you cry before.

“It’s okay, at least I know how she truly feels about me now.” You said pulling away from the hug, you wiped your tears away walking back to your horse.

“She probably didn’t mean it.” He knew Ellie had feelings for you, she must’ve been jealous about thinking about you and Dina. He regretted ever telling her anything about this whole situation, feeling like it was his fault.

“Yeah I beg to differ, whatever I don’t wanna talk about her, can we just go?” You got on your horse waiting for him to get on his.

“We need to stitch up your wound.” He pointed to the gash on your forehead.

“We’ll do that back in Jackson, it’s not that deep, let’s go.” Shaking his head at you he knew it was a lost cause to try and convince you to clean up your wounds.

The rest of the patrol was even more exhausting, running into a small herd of clickers and runners you had to fight your way through them to get to some houses for supplies but you made it and even managed to find some goods.

Finally back in Jackson, Jesse immediately sent you off to the infirmary to get your wounds checked.

Walking over there, you realized how tired you actually were once you got to the house, the door opened. Leaving the infirmary was none other than Ellie. Stepping out of her way, you rolled your eyes at the girl waiting for her to leave you so you could go inside.

She saw you, eyes widening at your state. You had blood running down your face, from the wound on your forehead. A bleeding lip and bruise on the right side of your face.

“I- (y/n)?” Worried about you and the state you were in. You looked tired, you had bags under your eyes and you looked like you hadn’t slept all night. You looked like you were on the verge of passing out.

“Are you okay? What happened?” She asked. You almost thought that she cared but then you remembered her words from yesterday, scoffing at her you went to walk past her but she grabbed your arm, flinching at her touch you stepped back not letting her touch you. She looked hurt at your reaction.

“(Y/n) I’m sorry about yesterday.” She looked embarrassed and she had regret in her eyes but you wouldn’t forgive her this easily, she hurt you bad.

“Yeah sure, can you get out of my way now?!” You really weren’t in the mood to talk to her now, your day was shitty enough already.

“I- can we talk later?” She looked at you with hopeful eyes.

“No.”

“Please (y/n).” She begged desperately, she quite literally looked like a kicked puppy right now, not able to resist her.

“Fine.” You said annoyed at yourself for giving in. You could see she was happy about your answer.

“Alright umm you can come over later tonight, I’ll be waiting.” She said. Nodding at her words, she let you pass.

“See you later.”

“Bye Ellie.” She watched you go inside.

Ellie felt like shit for yesterday. She didn’t even get why she said all these things to you, this was nothing like her at all. On the way back home she saw Jesse walking home as well, catching up to him.

“Hey what happened out there?”

“Hello to you too Ellie.” Jesse said, looking at her he noticed the worried look on her face. “We ran into a some crazy guy and then had to deal with some infected on the way back home, did you see (y/n) go into the infirmary?”

“I- yeah she um yeah wait crazy guy? Did he attack (y/n)?” Ellie asked. Just thinking about some guy laying his hands on you put her into deep rage.

“Yeah I was in another room when I heard something from the other room and when I got there he was holding a gun to her head but don’t worry about it he’s dead.”

Ellie felt even more guilty now, considering she was supposed to be on patrol today and not you. She should have been the one with a gun to her head and wounds on her face and not you. Ellie thought to herself. Jesse saw that look on her face. He put his hand on her shoulder making her look at him.

“Hey look, (y/n) is strong, we’ve been in worse situations before, she’ll be fine.” He assured her.

“Yeah, well. I made her feel like shit yesterday and now she almost died out there because me. It was supposed to me out there not her.”

“Don’t beat yourself up Ellie, we all make mistakes.” He felt bad for her, he could see how much she struggled right now.

“Not like this, I really hurt her Jesse.” She said looking down.

“I know, she told me about yesterday.”

Looking back up at him, surprised that you talked about her with Jesse.

“What did she say?”

“Nothing is going with Dina if that’s what you wanna know.” Jesse said.

“I know, I talked to Dina today, she kinda flipped out on me after I told her about what happened with (y/n).” She said, looking away embarrassed. Jesse chuckled at that, Dina always defended you. She was small but she could be really scary if she wanted to.

“You gotta fix this Ellie, (y/n) cried today, this is the first time she cried in front of me, whatever you said to her, you gotta make things right.” Seeing the guilty look on her face at the mention of you crying because of her “it’s my fault too you know? You thought they were together because of me.” He added.

“Still that gave me no right to say all this shit to her.” Ellie said.

“We all make mistakes.” Jesse repeated.

“She’s coming over tonight.” Ellie said, looking down.

“She is? She said she was really tired and that she just wanted a shower and her bed and not see anyone else for the rest of the day yet she comes over? See you still have a chance to make things right with her.” Jesse said, making Ellie blush.

“Yeah it’s gonna be awkward, she barely looked at me and she looked pretty mad.”

“She had a bad day, just don’t make it worse.” Jesse said.

Looking at him with an annoyed expression “thanks for the motivation.”

“You’re welcome, alright I gotta go, good luck with your girl, Williams.” He said before going the other way.

“Yeah.”

Ellie waited for you, it seemed like time wouldn’t go by, she just wanted to see you and apologize for all the shit she said. Grabbing her journal she opened a random page, coming across one of her drawings of you. It was the day your friends decided to have a bonfire night, you looked so pretty sitting by the fire, Ellie kept this picture of you in her head only to draw it in her journal once she got back home.

A knock on her door pulled her out of her thoughts, she laid the journal down, walking over to the door she took a deep breath and opened it. The first thing she noticed about you was the stitches you’ve gotten. All the blood on your face earlier hid the actual wound, the cut was longer than it looked before. It would definitely leave a permanent scar. Your lip was busted and there was a bruise on your right eye. It made her angry to see you like this, she wished she would’ve been there to kill this guy herself for laying his hands on you.

“Come in.” She stepped aside. You walked in waiting for her to say something.

You really didn’t want to be here but you decided to give her a chance, everyone deserves a second chance and you couldn’t hate Ellie not even after all the hurtful things she said.

“Umm sit down.” Sitting down you looked at her.

Your silence made her nervous, you’ve never been this quiet with her.

“Jesse told me about what happened out there, you okay?” She asked worriedly.

“Yeah nothing I couldn’t handle.” Your tone was stern and cold.

“I’m sorry (y/n).” She looked guilty. “I’m sorry for everything that I said, I don’t know what has gotten into me.”

Looking at her, you studied her face. Was she genuine?

“It’s fine you said what you were thinking. Nothing wrong with saying the truth.” You said.

“But- but that wasn’t the truth (y/n), I was mad and I talked shit.” She exclaimed. She knew it would be hard to convince you that she wasn’t talking the truth, none of what she said was right.

“It’s okay Ellie, you don’t have to try to make me feel better, you apologized. Let’s leave it at that and let’s just stay away from each other.” You said getting up, you wanted go because you knew staying meant that you would cry especially after that last sentence, you didn’t want to stay away from her but you knew how she felt about you and you didn’t want to be around someone who told you that no one wants or needs you.

“No! Please (y/n).” That made you stop. “Stay.” Turning around you looked at her.

She walked towards you, stopping in front of you.

“I don’t want to stay away from you and I don’t want you to stay away from me.” She whispered, looking into your eyes.

“You told me that no one wants me Ellie.”

“It was a lie, I want you (y/n)” she whispered.

Looking at her, you wanted to believe her you really did but you couldn’t, not when her hurtful words repeated themselves in your head.

You got closer to her, your lips almost touching hers, her breath hitched, she looked at you wide eyed, thinking you were going to kiss her.

“You were right Ellie.” Looking into her eyes, she looked at you curiously.

“No one wants me because that’s what you are, you are no one to me Ellie.” You said coldly, looking at her, she was taken aback by your words, shocked, she tried blinking her tears away. You yourself were on the verge of crying but you had to stay strong, you didn’t want her to see you cry.

You turned around, quickly leaving her place. You leaned against the wall outside, putting your hands on your knees you let the tears fall, you hated yourself for saying this to her but you couldn’t just forgive her after yesterday. Ellie wasn’t no one to you, she was somebody to you. You looked at her door, contemplating going back in and apologize, taking back what you just said to her but you couldn’t, so you left.

Ellie stood there in the middle of her room, processing what you just said to her. “You are no one to me Ellie.” Letting the tears fall, she sat down on her bed, she started sobbing.

Ellie brought this upon herself. She hurt you so you hurt her back. Karma is a bitch.

You weren’t in a better state, you walked home wiping your tears away angrily. You felt like you couldn’t breath anymore so you stopped walking, looking up at the night sky. You thought about everything that happened the past two days. It was just two days but you could already feel yourself slipping back into the darkness, the one that you grew up in. The one that filled you with self doubt and sadness. You weren’t strong enough for this. Taking a deep breath you started walking again.

You didn’t know where to go, you didn’t want to go home, you hated walking into an empty house. You didn’t want to see your friends right now either and you weren’t sure if you should go see Joel, especially after hurting Ellie, surely he would hate you if he found out about that. Realizing that not only Ellie would hate you now, Joel would hate you as well. This made you tear up again, the man who became something like a father figure to you would hate you now.

Your house was the only place for you right now so that’s were you went, walking around the corner of your house you looked down, wiping the tears away you ran into someone, looking up you realized it was Joel.

“Hey kid, I want-“ not finishing his sentence he realized you were crying, he looked at you with worried eyes, without asking any questions he pulled you into his chest hugging you “Come here, sweetheart.” You didn’t deserve this but you hugged him back, sobbing you held onto his jacket. Maybe that was the last time he’d hug you.

His warm hug made you feel safe at least this gave you comfort today because that’s what you needed the most right now. Comfort and love.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams imagine #tlou imagines #tlou ellie

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creatingnikki · 3 years

Text

What 2020 has taught me

1. Those things that seem like content for sci fi or pure fiction are actually things that can happen. To the entire world. Like a pandemic. And to you. Like a seizure.

2. Everyone is sad. Everyone is struggling. In different ways and in different measures. Makes no one special. But you still get to feel sad for yourself and be compassionate towards others. But it's also okay to draw boundaries because you're everyone too. Remember, not special? You're sad and trying to deal with it too.

3. Every job you have will not add value to your life. It will not teach you new things or give you people you'll want to stay in touch with. Sometimes some jobs will only be a season of your life. Even if the season lasts for over a year. It's okay.

4. You know how you thought picking a college and picking a major and picking your first job and picking a specific industry were all the career decisions you had to make? Yeah, no. It's never a one time thing. You could have a job as a marketing strategist for two years and then want nothing to do with it. And then you'll have to make another decision and work towards it. So I'd like to call it moves. It's like chess. You always have to make a move. And it always has to be strategic, yes. But the truth is in your 20s it probably won't. Even if you try. And as long as you're trying, you'll be fine.

5. You may have different sorts of friends like the one you only talk to about kdrama with or the one you met when you went book shopping alone and the friendship is all about books really. That's normal. But irrespective of why and how you became friends with them, if you consider them a friend then there has to be this basic sense of care, respect and empathy for each other. I don't care what people want to say. If you're faced with the worst trauma of your life, the least your friends can do is check up on you regularly. On text. And if they don't even do that then guess what? They aren't friends. They are acquaintances. Social media and quick promises make everyone seem like your friend. But they are not. They are just nice people who will be nice to you for specific periods and then wander away like you are a speck of dust floating in their journey.

6. You speak a lot and write and you express yourself and you’re emotionally mature but oh my god. You still hold in so much. You’ve known that at a subconscious level and over the last year people - experts - have told you that. You have also realized that you make your pain and sadness about pettier things because dealing with them, admitting about them, sharing that with your friends, is easier. You do that so that you don’t have to deal with the real stuff. Because it’s so damn painful. And you don’t know how to do it. Yet. Acknowledging is the first step anyway right? I know you’re confused about how exactly to let go of all this pain and sadness and feel lighter, and you know that talking to people really isn’t the solution, but I also know you’re smart enough to figure it out.

7. Talking about being smart...you know you’re different than others. Better. Special. Smarter. None of these are the right words. And you never voiced this out until this year because you knew it would make you come across as narcissistic. Some would say it’s because you’re an INFJ. But my mother once said that this may be the first time we are consciously living life but our souls are old and so our instinct and the things we know but can’t explain are because this isn’t the first time for our souls. The connections we feel with certain people, the reason we are so different from our siblings who grew up in the exact same environment with the exact same opportunities, our sense of right and wrong...it’s all because our souls learn and grow with each time and that’s why we are who we are. I think that’s probably how I can explain what I have always felt. That I am living in a different universe than everybody but I have to pretend to be in this one and dumb my emotions and thoughts down. Maybe that’s because my soul has lived through thousands of years while most around me are living their 100th life. Or maybe I’m just narcissistic, who knows?

8. You shift between talking in first person and second person but that’s because that’s how you think in your head and talk to yourself and live your life. You ask yourself things and you accuse yourself of things and you apologize to yourself and you comfort yourself. I think that seeps into your writing and the changing of the voices.

9. You always genuinely thought that you’d not be afraid of dying. And then what happened this October proved you shockingly wrong. I know it’s not so much being afraid of dying but the unbearable pain of knowing what that would mean to your family. So you have to be more prudent and less reckless with your life and the choices you make.

10. Regret is not something that plagued you but this year the realisation and pain of giving away your favourite books from your own personal collection to people you care about as a show of affection and them turning out to be ass holes or losers has hit you so hard. So, yes. No more of that shit. I really fucking want my copy of The Perks Of Being A Wallflower back. UGH. With the childhood picture of me inside it!

11. Sleeping at 5 am in the morning stops being fun or romanticised when you realise just how much harm it does to your body and mind. Literally every single disease and disorder can be traced back to a shitty fucking sleep schedule. It’s not just the hours you sleep but also the quality of sleep and the time you sleep at. So yes sleeping for 8 hours is healthy but not if that 8 hours is from 5 am to 12 pm. ‘Not a morning person’ is just another construct of capitalism and you don’t realise how many industries profit from having you believe that and staying up late or all night. Entertainment. Food. Alcohol. Pharma. Biologically and naturally you are a bloody morning person. And you don’t need 3 cups of coffee to begin your day or your phone notifications to get you to open your eyes and brain to wake up.

12. Sometimes you really have to stop taking people so seriously. I know the idea of treating people as casual friends or entertainment makes you want to fight that concept but you know what? Some people like Pineapple are ever only going to be good for that. No matter how much they ‘grow and change’. So keep them in the background for whenever you want some entertainment or drama. But please don’t clear up your busy schedule to meet them or send them gifts on their birthday.

13. If you don’t have the fruit juice or green juice within half an hour of making it then you are losing out on its most optimum health benefits. Or when you remove the white stringy stuff from oranges. That’s where all the actual nutrients are.

14. I am privileged and so are most of the people I interact with. The global pandemic has been hell for a lot of people around the world. Health wise. Financially. Losing people they care about. But I was blessed enough to be safe at home and have a job that I could smoothly do from home and not have a pay cut or 4-hour long Zoom meetings. So honestly when my friends tell me 2020 has been bad I have to stop and ask them why? Yes, the crippling uncertainty and anxiety is not something that can be undermined. But most people I know had very great positive life-changing milestones this year like moving away to another country for college or taking their first solo trip or getting married. So I have to ask them. Because I am not going to agree that everybody’s 2020 and pandemic narrative is the same.

15. Money gets spent really quickly. When I left my job earlier this year because of personal issues, I thought I had enough savings to last me a year. Full disclosure - I mean to last my personal expenses because I live with my parents. But it didn’t even last me 3 months. And so to use money wisely and buy things that provide utility than instant gratification is something to follow. Also buying one pair of really expensive but quality shoes is better than buying 5 pairs of affordable but low quality shoes that will have a very short life and force you to buy more. I know that higher price doesn’t always mean better quality but sometimes it does. And as an adult now I want to do the whole quality > quantity thing even with things and not just people.

16. Everyone in their 20s went through a crisis of what they should do with their lives and their careers and it’s not unique to the 21st century and the challenges of today. Whether it was Vincent Van Gogh in the 19th century or Sylvia Plath in the 20th, every single person, as brilliant as them went through the torture of making these decisions and living with their consequences. You may think I picked wrong examples for they both killed themselves but you know what? They were the people who really want to live more than anyone. They knew what life meant. And maybe if mental health help was more accessible back then their lives would be longer and more peaceful.

17. Telling people everything is overrated. You don’t have to talk about every single thing that’s on your mind or that’s going on in your life. The good and the bad and the mediocre. You have to be mindful about how much of yourself you’re giving away.

18. Re-watch Suits when people at work feel intimidating because the confidence + negotiation tactics that they show can actually work irl cos at the end of the day no matter in what position you’re dealing with people who have emotions and fears and insecurities and desires. You understand how to leverage that nobody can get the better of you.

19. You belong to yourself. No matter how much you love someone or how much they have done for you or how much you owe them - you belong to yourself. You can’t live your life for someone else. Everyone belongs to themselves first. No relationship, no promise, no circumstance should make you feel like you have to give up your life and make it all about them. If and when the time comes to die for them, go ahead. Take a bullet. Donate that kidney. Write them in your will. But live your life for yourself. And let them live theirs.

20. Twenty three was a challenging year. When it started you claimed the age 23 sounds boring and insignificant. Guess it proved you wrong. It hurt so much now. But that only means you’ll look back on it later and see how it added so much wisdom and resilience to your being. It doesn’t mean that it makes all the bad things that happened to you okay. Or that you should be grateful to them. Fuck no. It means that you should be kinder to yourself because at the end of the day, your mind and body find it in themselves to deal with whatever is thrown their way. They have your back. It’s time you learn to sit straight.

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