#And sleepy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

levitiquee · 7 months

Text

It'd been years after the war.

You no longer had to fight anymore.

The ODM bruises had started to fade as you don't have to tighten the straps anymore, so hard that they dug into your skin. You don't miss the familiar weight of the gas tanks and thunder spears around your waist.

No more recovering only the remains of your dead friend. No more running for your life. No more corpses, no more blood.

You don't miss that life.

You've found your peace, a life with Levi.

You would have never thought it was possible. Not just you and him, but the whole concept of it.

That finally, you can sleep peacefully, without being scared of an urgent call that a wall was broken through. Though you'd still have nightmares but still. And even then it was fine because you had Levi now, to help you get through it. You no longer hard to curl up to yourself and try to calm yourself down, hug a pillow and sob silently so none of your dormmates wake up. You had Levi now.

Or the mornings, you think. The odd sense of peace, the feeling of safety. You can wake up beside him and stay in bed for as long as you want. You don't have to get up and search for your uniform. There's no training to be late to. You just curl yourself around him and watch him sleep, peaceful. And you get to watch when he'd woke up, sleepy sleepy eyes peering through and then arms wrapping around you tighter. He looks so vulnerable then. But you're glad, you think. That he can sleep like that now. That he feels safe enough to, safe with you. His dark circles aren't so visible anymore and he doesn't look as tired as he used to. He still can't get a full rest, but the insomnia isn't that bad.

Life had changed. And for the best. Peace for him and peace for you.

But try as you may, and oh dear God did you try, you can't actually forget. Can't actually leave the life you had spent so many years living behind just like that.

No, the scars never faded.

Souvenirs, you think. Reminders etched into your skin, reminders of who you were and what you've done and all that you pray to forget.

Yours stopped bothering you at one point. It used to. Once. Severely.

You'd stare at the bruises on your thighs for hours or the livid pale slashes along your arms or your stomach. Rough knuckles and calloused fingertips, the constant usage of ODM had left marks there too.

It's more the memories than anything that comes with it.

You used to think, how could anyone possibly look at this marred mess you were and still love you?

Oh but Levi.

He never told you but you knew.

He thinks it's not enough. That he's not enough. That surely you deserve someone with all their fingers, and both their eyes.

And you think it's ridiculous.

But even now, after so many years, you'd sometimes catch a glimpse of him staring at himself into the mirror, fingers grazing his face.

The world had been so cruel to him. And he didn't know how to be kinder to himself.

Unlike you, who cried it out, he never learnt how to actually handle his emotions. So when it's one of those days, he merely shuts himself out. In his own dark little mind. And those days, you leave him alone, because he only curls into himself deeper if you try to get him out. And you learnt to give him space, for him to come out on his own. Though every inch of you wants to help him, but you don't know how.

And it was one of those days, you realized when you walked into the bathroom.

He was staring at the bathroom mirror, arms braced on the counter. So focused he didn't even hear you coming.

"Levi?" You called out gently.

He didn't answer, but his head tilts towards you, eyes shifting to meet yours. He only gives a slight nod.

"You... okay?"

"...yeah." He takes a moment but nods. "Fine."

And it was then you noticed how hard his fingers gripped onto the counter. And you noticed his expression, the look of guilt there. How he wouldn't even look at you properly.

Your heart hurt.

If only he understood.

You didn't say anything but walked towards him. And without a word, you slide on top of the counter, shifting so he was standing between your legs. You locked your legs behind him, pulling him closer. He was startled but he didn't say anything, his eyes downcast.

There was so much pain inside those gray eyes.

"Levi." Your voice gentle, soft. "Look at me."

At that, he only tilted his head, looking further away from you, eyes darting sideways.

"No, look at me." You held his chin, turning his head towards you. He flinched at your touch, but you could see the resistance breaking under your gaze. The walls coming down.

With that, you held up your hair, tilting your head to show him a slash that went up to your neck.

"See this?"

He looked at you, confused. And without a word, you tugged on your t-shirt, taking off the clothing in one pull.

"What are you... doing?" He asked, warily. Eyes on your face. Even after so many years, he still got shy.

"No, eyes here lev." You said firmly. "See this?" You pointed at a scar along your elbow, then towards the bruises that ODM had left on your chest. " And this?"

He only stared at you, expression hard. His jaw tightened.

"Tell me Lev." You sighed.

"Does these repulse you? Creeps you out? Do you think they're ugly? Do they make you love me less? Or not at all?"

Levi looked horrified. He was immediately shaking your head, desperate to deny the words. How could you even think that?

"No." He said hastily, eyes wide. "No, what are you saying? Of course not—"

"So why on earth," You gently cupped his cheek, shushing him down. "Do you believe that yours makes me love you any less?"

Your thumb pressed along the scars on his cheek. They were white now, no longer blood red and livid on his skin as it was back when Hange stiched them up. You swallowed, pressing your forehead to his.

"What made you think," You whispered. "That these makes you worth any less levi? "

He didn't pull away, but he stiffened. His face hardened but there was a look of despair beneath his eyes. "That's not the same—''

"How is it any different?" You cut him out, your voice firm. "You tell me, I'm waiting."

He hesitated, staring at you. And then he looked down.

"...I'm crippled."

"Your point?"

"You deserve someone younger. Someone whole. Someone who's more than me."

"There's no one that's more than you levi."

"I'm damaged. "

"We'll fix it. I'll fix you. So, help me fix myself."

"I'll hurt you. I've already hurt you. I don't know how to be better than this. I don't know how to love someone. "

"You're the only person who have never hurt me. You make me feel more worthy than anyone else in this world ever could. And holy shit, if you can't," You whispered. "If you can't, let me. God, I'd love the shit out of you if you'd just let me. So fucking let me in Levi, don't push me away. Don't shut me out. You've done that enough in your lifetime."

And Levi was still. He was made out of stone. So hard, so rough, the edges so sharp. He tries to soften himself for you, but it goes against everything he ever taught himself his whole life and he doesn't know how to do that. He tries, but somehow it never feels enough. Not enough for you. And he wish he could believe that you didn't love him because you do and he could feel it. He can always feel it . Like the way you were looking at him and he felt so, so exposed.

It makes him feel guilty. Someone like you doesn't belong with someone like him. And he wishes, for once in your life, you'd stop looking at him like that so he could convice himself that you don't want him and he could walk away.

And he knows he makes you feel like you're not good enough, because he sees your sad expression when he locks himself out. But it's not you, he wants to tell you. God, you're fucking perfect and it's never you. It's him. He's the fucking problem. The space inside his head was so dark he was scared that just might be enough for you to leave.

But you. The tempt of it.

The warmth of you. You were all softness and gentless and goodness, so so kind to him and it makes him want to hold you tight and never let go again.

But somedays it gets so hard.

He isn't used to this. To show his feelings. To feel so bare in front of someone. Instinct doesn't let him.

He isn't used to feel so loved.

But he thinks he'd try. For you.

Because now that it's you, he doesn't know how to go back to a time there wasn't you.

"Levi?" Your voice pulls him out of his mind. Like you always did. His saving grace, his angel. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling you closer and he can hardly breathe.

"Don't give up on me, Levi." You whispered to his ears. "On you. On us."

@sad-darksoul @anxious-chick @raginginferno267

522 notes · View notes

nuppu-nuppu · 4 months

Text

214 notes · View notes

saxyn · 11 months

Text

I feel so tired

#and frustrated #and sleepy #with a headache

429 notes · View notes

tiredlilguy · 5 months

Text

Nanami the type to stare at you lovingly and lean closer to you when you talk because he wants you to know that he’s listening and acknowledging you. However it backfires because you get flustered, and he just ends up interrupting you and kissing you because he couldn’t help himself

#=w=#nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #I’m blushy rn #and sleepy #mono rambles #last one I swear-

152 notes · View notes

rusmii · 3 months

Text

⌞ઇଓ⌝ ─── 𝓭𝓮𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓭𝓮𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓵𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓮 .ᐟ

when an artist from russia is hired to paint the portrait of the first daughter of [Surname], how will their relationship pan out as they start to get to know each other?

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬. painter!fyodor x fem!reader, fluff, reader is a rich girl, fyodor is a foreigner, founding father language, fyodor character exploration, renaissance au.. I think

𝐩𝐬. haihai special early valentines gift for @aureatchi <3 luv ya revrev. NOT edited/proofread. was supposed to be longer, but I got tired and cut it💔

wc: 1.4k

“From where?” A question sprung from her chest.

“From Rus’, my lady,” the butler of [Surname] answers for him. Though her outward expression told him enough, Fyodor took this initiative to smile in respect.

“Yes, sir is correct — I am indeed from Rus’. Nice to meet the fair lady of [Surname].”

In quick addition, Fyodor bows slightly as he takes your hand into his. The gentle kiss placed on top of your white laced gloves still didn't seem to sway your opinion on him, however. How unfortunate.

After acknowledging his confirmation, Fyodor is swept away by the butler as you were with the maidens of the mansion.

Outside of the mansion was absolutely breathtaking. Circling around the fountain and to the main entrance of the tea house, Fyodor admires the new freshness of warm spring flowers.

Akin to that of his homeland, the flowers here in your country serve to be much more beautiful — as beautifully breathtaking as you are.

No third party opinion can convince him otherwise, that's for sure.

But for now, Fyodor must focus on his main job at hand; to draw a portrait of you.

It wasn't a hard job, per say. No, it was very much easy if he said so himself. But what really composed the challenge was the subject of fine details.

When an artist paints, you can easily follow along the very first few blobs of wet paint — the muse being satisfied from just a few pecks of fine strokes and a little bit of color here and there to liven up the look.

But those large specks of blobs soon turn into smaller little blotches of paint that are scattered everywhere on the canvas the higher the muse is willing to pay.

A very fine example of that would be you. A very demanding lady who expects the finest of quality works to be subjected to you when you're the main attraction.

While some had something to say about your ridiculous demands, Fyodor liked to say the opposite.

Because in his eyes, what other artists lacked was the fundamentals of the person doing the art.

It wasn't just confident brush strokes or the signature style of a person's canvas.

No, it was patience.

What others lacked was what he had acquired since birth.

And to him, that was exactly why many artists weren't able to meet your expectations. Why you were so disappointed when you first saw the finished product of your portrait.

Every single pretty piece of you just wasn't you. It was of another girl sitting in your place with the more descriptive details of your face.

In short, he thinks every self-proclaimed artist in your kingdom should rot for even daring to pick up the brush.

Ugly, so ugly that it had become ridiculous. Every pass by on the street, did Fyodor run into these cheap street artists that did nothing but sketch the outline of your body and called it a day.

Every corner turned was a portrait shop in the periphery of his vision. Even then, the finished product looked absolutely hideous.

He now saw why he was desperately called upon from your maidens despite his absent leave.

If he was judgested from the displays of art this kingdom had to offer, then he could guess how horrible you were feeling when you found out that the arts were just disrespected inside the premise of this land.

“We've arrived. Please do try not to fight with each other.” Announcing the arrival of his company, Fyodor bows, and thanks the butler for escorting him. “Thank you for going out of your way to escort me here, sir.”

A smile made its way on the butler's face. ‘Seems as if he's not used to these praisments,’ Fyodor thinks before waving the butler off from sight.

Now that he was alone, he set his eyes on the double wooden door. Its gorgeous carved craft made him question why the artists just weren't up to par as other vapa professions in the area.

“Lovely for you to join me today, Dostoevsky,” the clink of your teacup very well matched your outfit. Seemed as if you were the stylish type.

Not that he minded. In fact, he very much appreciated you being the second most beautifully fitted piece he's laid his eyes on since stepping foot into this kingdom.

“Not at all, my lady,” Fyodor sips his tea, the plaid smile resting comfortably on his face. “Hm.. If I had known how polite you'd be, I'd very much have approached you with a far pleasant attitude.” Ah. Apology accepted, Miss [Surname].

“No, no. I do not condemn you for your misuse of tone towards me. I, too, would have been irritated had I known that the artists of the kingdom I was residing in were.. erm..” How should he put it without offending your nationalism pride?

“Horrid?” You finished the word for him. “Yes, horrid,” his smile grows as a response to you. A mutual smile following the lines of your face as well. Fyodor sets his cup aside, walking over to the art set, sitting next to the beautifully lined vines.

He inspects the canvas and quality paints rowed out into columns. “Do you guys usually have sets out sitting like this?” He asks.

“Just for the occasion.”

“Ah.”

For a few more seconds, Fyodor takes his time to admire the smooth wooden palette. Its edges looked as if it fit a comfortable vice and didn't retain any splinters.

He notices your eyes on him. Indirectly, the light of the teahouse mirrors his reflection.

Turning his attention back to you, Fyodor decides to muse you on your questions. “Care to chat about your questions, my lady?”

His perception almost caught you off guard. Almost.

Coughing up the air from your throat, you sit upright to fix your posture and re-cross your legs to sit in a mannered form while Fyodor sits timely across from you.

“Well, to start off…” Pausing to take a sip of your tea for dramatic effects, Fyodor waits patiently for your first question. “Why did you accept the offer to paint my portrait when you were on absence?”

Without skipping a beat, Fyodor responds with a quick that's a bit personal.

Which led to you choking up on your strings and having him lead the conversation.

Fyodor stirs his spoon inside the teacup. The sugar cube melting away from the light waved of bitterness.

The silence that was started by him now was broken by him. “How did you arrive at the teahouse so early, before me?” A simple question, but still something nonetheless.

“I had taken the short route whilst as I had him give you the scenic view the kingdom could not offer you." A somewhat apology from you on the behalf of the people. An empathic gesture that was not needed from you.

“I see…” Fyodor let out a short witted answer. His interest in this conversation dwindled as fast as the kingdom's normal artisan.

His faded expressions sent bells to your head. The commoners bore all too familiar with you.

Trying to find another topic that'll get him to stay, Fyodor abruptly stands up from his seat and stalks over to the set.

His never ending fixation.

“Get up and sit here. Bring your chair too,” he suddenly orders you — his demeanor all too serious from who you were just talking to a second ago.

“Agh. Blasphemous,” he hears you mutter your breath, but chose not to confront you on anything as you were complying with his demands.

“Sit, sit.” He ushers you into a spot under the direct sunlight where it shines the brightest.

You cross your arms, “Don't tell me what to do in my own teahouse.”

Ignoring your words, he grabs a hold of the paint brush lying in the tray. “Chin up, head straight. Posture fixed and don't move.”

Distraught with complaints, your expression sours as you zip your lips to refrain from spouting any irrationally nonsense.

“Loosen up your face,” he says, dipping the brush into the water as he picks up a nearby pencil to measure your outline.

You huff, “Why?”

His soft smile still adorned his face, “To capture your beauty in my memory.”

Memory? Dostoevsky wants to remember your beauty forever?

While thoughts skyrocket out of your head, Fyodor takes this opportunity to start sketching your aloof expression.

The graphite from his pencil marks every curve, dent, mark, and bump of your face to a t. Every color that his brush paints over color matches you perfectly.

Even if he couldn't deny your beauty, you were still a snot nosed brat who longed for praise and compliments at the end of the day.

Still, despite your huffing and puffing — he found you the prettiest when he could stare at your relaxed face.

hi first fyodor fluff fic🫣

taglist (comment on this post to be tagged in future works!): @luvan1 @bfdazai @asqmi @squigglewigglewoo @liviash @doonifox @ishqani @xxcandlelightxx

belongs to @rusmii 2024, don't steal >:((

#[ৎ୭ 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠]#hi hello #im vv tired #and sleepy #and tired #fyodor x reader #fyodor dodostoevsky x reader #fyodor x you #fyodor x y/n #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bungou stray dogs x you #bungou stray dogs x y/n

124 notes · View notes

ganondalfff · 1 year

Text

🐈‍⬛

#me #mine #im back #and sleepy

466 notes · View notes

majorproblems77 · 2 months

Note

Here have a sky doodle! :D

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

I LOVE HIMMMMMMM

:DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

THANK YOU!!!

@arecaceae175 ITS HE!!!!! :D

25 notes · View notes

summersshit · 15 days

Text

Holy shrimp bro

#hi #mangle fnaf #the mangle #mangle #fnaf fanart #fnaf 2 #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy’s 2 #mangle five nights at freddy’s #erm #what the scallop #idk how to tag this #tbh I’m super tired #and sleepy #snoreeee #traditional art

9 notes · View notes

ramblingkat · 1 year

Text

Someone reblogged my last post and tagged how lame it was. That amused me, because I looked at their blog and all I could think is they feel young. Not in a bad way. Just maybe young enough that they are enjoying the benefits of something like Night Vale existing without realizing just how much it did change culture for a lot of us sad nerdy sorts.

Night Vale itself grew from older roots, yes. Early internet fandoms and cultures can be seen in the roots. Even older radio dramas and creeping horrors lend a hand as well.

All media works like that. But even people who never listened or liked Night Vale responded to a lot of changes that it brought to a lot of people. Because for a lot of people, then and now, are still affected and touched by such a genuinely happy oddball as Cecil Palmer and his adoration for so many things in his town. Even when he is less than happy with them.

Especially in places where the Internet and podcasts are your only chance to really see that sort of thing.

If taking a moment to articulate that makes me lame, well, good for me. The internet helped me, someone who grew up in a rural area where a majority of people are good ol’ boys and their just as typical country girlfriends, that there was a beautiful, strange place where you could always find someone as strange as you, and Cecil Palmer was one of the strangest. I was older when Night Vale came out, and I appreciated it all the more for it.

Seriously, want to see how it affected people? Look at earlier fanwork for the series. There is a lot of it with Carlos comparing and contrasting the acceptance of people in Night Vale to the comments from people outside of it. Look at Cecil himself, because while white twink is the main way he’s drawn, it definitely wasn’t the only way.

So, yeah, maybe lame. But honest. And a little amused that someone reblogged just to call it lame. I can’t say too much, given it obviously just made me blurb out more affection for the series before getting ready to go back to sleep.

Overall, expect a lot of lameness from us old school WTNV fans. We have a ridiculously large amount of feels and are full of giddy feelings now.

So hello to all the old WTNV fans, and welcome aboard to all the new ones.

#welcome to night vale #cecil gershwin palmer #carlos the scientist #happily being lame #and sleepy #blogging while sleepy is fun #cecilsweep

86 notes · View notes

reddragonofroses · 3 months

Text

Something Sweet

Just wanted to share something sweet because it came to my mind and love needs to be shared, no?

-----

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh!

Pairing: Atemu x Yami (Monarchshipping)

-----

As he returned from his visit to the bathroom, Yami smiled as he carefully pushed the curtains around the bed away to gaze upon the nest created upon it. Curling his long cat-tail in delight, the pale Neko purred softly as he was allowed to watch his Dragon prince for a moment while rose-red eyes playfully glared at him for leaving the bed.

It was chilly, as winter flitted through the open window, but his beloved knew he liked it that way and thus Atemu allowed it. It also made way for a bigger nest with more warm blankets which the golden Dragon loved as well, though the longer Yami remained to simply watch his lover, the fiercer Atemu’s glare became.

Despite it, Yami smiled as he purred with his long tail curling and his cat-ears perked up at Atemu’s soft possessive rumblings. He just wanted to watch and appreciated everything his lover had build for them in their bedroom, though as a hand came forth from between the folds of the many warm blankets, the pale Neko chuckled softly at the demanding gesture.

“The bed is cold, Kitten”, Atemu rumbled from within his mountain and Yami purred as he yielded with another soft chuckle. He made sure the curtains around the bed were as they should be again, before he found his lover’s warm hand in the soft darkness surrounding them.

Gently, he was guided back to his spot within the nest Atemu had lovingly made for them and Yami continued to purr as he found his way back to his lover’s side. He tucked his ears into his wild hair with delight as he buried his nose against Atemu’s firm chest and he sighed a breath of relief as he was embraced wholly.

To some, he was not more than vermin and to others, he would always be a simple housecat, but to his lover he was a treasure and Yami smiled as Atemu was that to him too. It had taken a couple of years to fully accept that he was viewed as such because he had never dared dream it and yet, here he was… Embraced, loved, made sure he was covered well with warm blankets, before Atemu nuzzle him with deep purrs filling the air around them pleasantly.

“I love you, Até”, Yami whispered as he felt safe with warmth enveloping him whole as he laid within his Dragon’s arms.

“I love you, Kitten. I love you”, Atemu whispered equally as soft back as he nuzzled Yami again with more purrs resonating from deep within his throat. He was happy again… The bed was full and warm again… It was perfect again and Atemu smiled lovingly at that while bliss filled him whole.

#yugioh #atem #monarchshipping #yami #something sweet #small drabble #my writing #sharing some love #they are so sweet #and cosy #and sleepy #my otp #have some love my friends <3

14 notes · View notes