commissioner on ao3. I write multichapter Levi Ackerman/OC smut. This is where I talk to ppl, post updates about my wips and ongoing mental health status 💀 adults only.
Peeling off the broken breastplate of a stoic knight who only fights and never speaks, just to realize there’s nothing in there. Not metaphorically—the armor is literally empty. It doesn’t appear to affect him. If the armor stays mostly in the shape of a knight, he just gets back up to keep fighting. But with the chest plate off he just sits there, equally impervious to curiosity as I reach up into the cavity where his body might’ve gone. Stubbornly, no answers are found anywhere in there.
So I forge him a new breastplate and on the inside, because I know he has plenty of room, I put a little pocket. Not big enough to hold anything functional of course. Just a little extra piece to see what he’ll do with it.
He comes back next time with some grievous injury to his nothing, presumably from the massive shredded gash across his thigh plates. He sits and waits. I fix it for him. He is still nothing in there. I decide to add a drawing on the inside, of the type of beast I imagine could rend metal into scraps with a single blow. He puts it back on. He no longer moves as if he is injured.
Over time the interior of the knight becomes decorated with whatever odds and ends I could think to attach to the inside of a guy who’s got room to carry it. What really gets me is that he never removes any of it. Never requests a change. Not even when I installed a curtain rod for a small tapestry, or a bud vase to carry roses for his beloved, or an accordion folder for letters. He didn’t say a word for any of the many, many drawings of mythical beasts that now fight forever inside of his shell.
There are plenty of other forges. I’m not entirely sure why he keeps coming back here anyway. We’re pretty popular, but he could get his armor fixed a lot quicker (and with fewer ridiculous modifications) literally anywhere else. I asked him if I could get a look at his nothing again. He flipped up his visor and nodded his head so I could take a look. It was the same as it had been, filled with drawings and trinkets and weird little fixtures I’d put in there. I asked if he was annoyed by it, or liked it, or felt anything at all, but he literally only ever says nothing, so I’m not sure why I asked.
There’s not much room left in his nothing now. When he comes back for repairs I’ve had to fix my own foolish additions. Some of these pieces are intricate and irritating to repair, but I fix them anyway. It feels wrong to take any of it away from him now, even though I’ve been rudely encroaching on his nothingness to the point where it’s barely even there. How he squeezes his nothing back into a body so full, I’ll never understand. But it’s a game to me now, finding a spot not yet filled and putting something there. A dark part of me wonders if he ever gets filled up completely, if whatever sorcery holds the nothing-knight together may break, and it will all clatter unceremoniously to the floor.
When he hands me his breastplate yet again, it is so shockingly disfigured that I wonder if being made of nothing has somehow kept him alive. No ordinary knight could sustain such injuries. So I fix it. And he waits, unmoving, in a quiet corner of the forge. It’s like he’s watching, even though I know the reading glasses I put inside his helmet were just for fun. I’m careful to put it all back exactly the way it was when he last left. There’s no room to add more this time.
He examines the breastplate, and pauses before putting it back on, like he’s looking for something. Is he worried about the fit? But it suits him just as it always did. He calmly points to a little space, about an inch, between a miniature shelf and one of many pockets. There’s nothing there. I ask him what’s wrong, and again he points. It’s the most emotion I’ve ever seen from him, and it’s barely anything at all. I take it to mean he wants something there.
I spend some time engraving a little snail in the gap. He watches, as much as nothing can watch. When I’m finished he holds the breastplate, but he doesn’t put it on right away. I ask him if something’s still wrong. He says nothing, and puts it on. I tell him I can’t add anything else. Even if he could ask, there’s no room left.
Next time he comes back, there’s nothing wrong with his armor—he lets me check to make sure. I ask him what he’s doing here. Out from one of many pockets, he retrieves a tiny rusted knife. It’s in miserable condition, barely worth saving. I tell him I could make him a nice new one, but I’ll fix it if he likes. He puts it away and reaches around to find something else, a needle and thread. Better condition, but I’m not a sewist and I tell him as much. He puts them away. He then retrieves a little twisted piece of wax paper. I open it. It’s candy. I ask if I can eat it. He says nothing. I eat it. It’s flavored with cinnamon. I’m surprised he let me take it.
He keeps bringing me candy now. His armor is the most laborious to repair out of every client my forge serves, but it’s my own fault so I can’t complain. Sometimes he keeps me company while I work. I wonder if he is trying to tell me something when he hands me mints. I wonder again at the lemon lozenges. He stares at me when I eat, as much as nothing can stare.
One day he brings me a little jar of honey. I thank him, I tell him I’ll save it for dinner. He watches me work, he puts his repaired armor back on, and he stays. My shift passes slowly, and when I finally pack up to leave it’s dark outside. He follows me out of the forge. I ask him where he’s going. He points to the jar in my hand. I ask him if he wants to watch me eat it. He says nothing, but the nothing-knight clearly wants something, so I open the lid and dunk my finger in the honey. I try not to get any on my chin. He stands there, inches away, watching me try to consume this jar of honey without a utensil. It tastes like clovers. About half the jar is left when I’ve finally had enough of pretending to be a bear, but he doesn’t move to leave.
I ask if he’s going to follow me home. He says nothing. I tell him he can if he wants to. Again, nothing. I start walking, and he follows at my side. I know he’s not going to say anything ever, so I fill the silence. I tell him I’m grateful for the sweets, I tell him about how his various components are made, I tell him I’ve never met anyone made of nothing before. I tell him it’s a rare opportunity for a smith to work so much on the inside of something. He says nothing. I tell him again how much I like the candy.
It occurs to me that maybe filling me with sugar is as close as he can get to filling someone else’s empty armor with trinkets. I’m not sure if that’s really why he does it. I tell him I don’t have room to be filled with anything on the inside, not like him. I’m not a container for much besides food. He offers me another piece of candy. Maybe he likes containing something, the way I like to feel full. Maybe it’s nothing at all.
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I didn’t edit this even a little bit. Thanks for reading!
"Doomed yaoi" this "doomed yuri" that what about doomed found family. What about finding comfort in these new people after going through so much on your own—a community, a solace, a home to come back to. Caring for them with all you've got, only to realize that it wasn't going to work, ever, no matter what you tried. Only to have it ripped apart, no matter how much you tried to hold them close. Found family that becomes lost family. Found family that takes your heart with it when they go.
not gonna lie as someone for whom found family is only family I find this concept absolutely emotionally devastating and would pay money to have my heart broken by a story and characters doomed in this way
How do you feel about people taking inspiration from your work to write their own fics even if they aren't in the same fandom?
I don’t get confused about plagiarism vs art. All ideas gotta come from somewhere. There isn’t a work of art or a piece of writing in this world that is purely original and uninfluenced by things the creator heard, saw, or read. I hope my stuff is good enough to inspire someone else, and as long as they’re using that inspiration to make their own thing and not copy pasting my writing then I see no reason to get upset.
This has happened one time that I know of. While searching for things to read I found a Levi/OC fic that was extremely similar to my first fic, Strange Girl But Effective. But similar is not same. Unless they’re using my oc’s name and directly copying blocks of dialogue, then it’s something else.
I think it would be wildly hypocritical for a fan fiction writer to say they don’t want anyone drawing inspiration from their works. What if the creators of the characters we’re using said the same thing? Then where would we be?
Thanks for liking my fanfic. It’s pieces of every person and song and story I’ve ever loved.
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Have you seen the movie Secretary? My housemate and I watched it a couple of days ago and it reminded me of your work
I rented Secretary when video rental stores were still a thing. We should bring those back. Anyway, the point is: I saw Secretary once in 2003. I already knew I was submissive because I had unsupervised access to the Internet, but I was still figuring out what exactly that can mean. I didn't have FetLife or Tumblr or anything like that, so I could only go off of what I could read in bad bdsm erotica and see in bad bdsm porn, which painted a grim picture. I felt like Secretary was more of the same. I thought, "this represents someone and their version of submission, I'm sure, but not me or mine."
I remember, more than anything, feeling like the discourse about the movie had really missed the point. Everyone was talking about how kinky it was, and maybe because I was already consuming a lot of kinky stuff I didn't find the D/s relationship to be at all remarkable. What really troubled and stuck with me about Secretary was how it showed me how few options there were for a woman to exist and survive and thrive independent from men as recently as the 1960's (I don't remember exactly what year the film is supposed to take place during, but I remember a it being very 60's - 70's coded to me.) We really missed an opportunity to talk about self harm as a reaction to forced dependence on the patriarchy (not because we weren't ready for that. Girl Interrupted already came out 3 years earlier). I would have liked just one essay about how maybe all the self hatred the main character in Secretary feels could have been a reaction to living in a society that hates her existence. Is it possible that she finds comfort in the violence her boss inflicts on her because it finally honestly matches what is sociologically implied everywhere she turns? That's the effect the movie had on me. It didn't change anything about how I thought of myself or my sexuality, but it left me desperately wanting for a deeper read that would include historical context, psychology, and feminism. When you see those themes in my writing, that's Secretary and how it influenced me.
The movie isn't bad at what it's doing. It's well written and I think the director did a great job. Everything I'm talking about is there. What failed me was the discourse. Movie critics really started and ended with foaming at the mouth over kinky subversive sex and couldn't form a single thought beyond that, which unfairly left me with a bad taste in my mouth anytime Secretary is mentioned.
For me personally it's a 3/5. Could have been a 4 with someone else as the male lead. James Spader is a good actor, but so very unattractive to me. Forever traumatized by seeing him portray a horny dom. Watched once and never gave it a rewatch because of the very deep ick his turned on face causes me.
Maladaptive daydreaming as a child was like "what if I was in the digimon universe" and now it's like "what if someone genuinely loved me even though I'm flawed"
Im listening to a podcast ep about AI usage and the guest is saying he completely understands why people refuse to use it out of fear because he shares the same fears, and it's just so weird to me that it's never ever acknowledged that some people don't use it not because they're afraid but because it just holds no appeal. There are things I'm sure learning models are very useful for but none of them have anything to do with me. Yes I'm a bit of a ludite but I completely failed to resist the lure of the phone, or social media, I've never used chatgpt because I have just never wanted to. I feel like the entire debate is instantly reframed once you acknowledge that it's not a necessary service that people either work to resist or avoid out of fear. For most people it's just an online tool, and for me and I know for lots of others too it's just not that important.
It's not that interesting or useful to me, it's holds no appeal, I am resisting nothing. I could already do everything I wanted I don't need a new tool. It really is that simple and I would feel this way even if it wasn't worrying and evil in various ways. We HAVE to resist this narrative that AI is everywhere because people want it, because it's necessary, because it's an improvement, because people can't live without it. AI is everywhere because tech CEOs and investors want to make something from their massive investments. It is incredibly resistable to me. Just don't have an interest in it. This needs to be part of the AI conversation if we have any hope of saving ourselves from the data mining clutches of big tech (AI specifics aside)
Less of an ask, just got through R&H again (near enough anyways, about to get onto 26) and I actually can’t wait for 27 I’m so excited. I was hoping to get through one chapter every couple of days to make it last and it was going well until about 10 and I’ve burned through it since. Your writing is incredible not even just all the smut but ugh just everything about it
Hope all is well with yourself
thank you so much for waiting! i swear i'm almost done with 27. definitely not struggling for ideas, but am struggling for time and energy. i had a baby in July of '25 and she and the first kid keep me very busy and do not let me sleep.
I was gonna do this as its own post, but instead, as a gift to you anon, here are...
R&H headcanons that I've had and failed to fit into the story thus far:
1) there is the smallest reference in chapter 11 "Librarian" to an academic rivalry I headcanoned for Erna from day 1 and just... never got around to... making it a thing. In possibly my favorite scene of the whole fic, Levi and Erna are arguing about her final paper and its merits, and part of it goes like:
She sits down in front of him, wiggles her ass on the desk, and spreads her legs wide. "Tell me I got the highest grade in the class and I'll let you eat me," she purrs.
"You didn't," he deadpans with a straight face.
"What the fuck, then who did?!" she screeches.
"Thought you didn't compare yourself to others."
"Shut the fuck up. Tell me who did better than me and then shut up."
"Bertholdt Hoover."
Erna slaps her palms on the desk again and again, "Ew, mumblecore indie soft boy?! Please be fucking with me! How? What did he write?”
"He wrote a thesis about the influence of transcendentalism on English Romantic poets."
She scoffs. "Of course he did. Bitch." She slides off the desk and stands between Levi's knees, looking down at him. "That kid gets half the awards I submit shit for because he's a straight white guy doing the absolute bare minimum getting good guy points for just existing. His writing is boring and nonthreatening to the patriarchal status quo, and it's fucking insulting. I'm innovative! He's just a shy, boring fake ass soft boy who says he's a feminist but probably doesn't wash dishes or do laundry."
"Neither do you!"
Bert was gonna be more of a presence. Erna was going to complain about him every time she saw him in one of her classes or on campus, because writing is very competitive and he's her main competition. I wanted them to always be up against each other for various writing awards (of which there are hundreds upon hundreds) and for it to be very one sided where she is seething over him and how academia favors straight white men, while he barely thinks of her at all. I just got bogged down in all the characters and all the side plots and bits, and of course the smut. But I swear I'm still doing this. Because Erna whining about the "mumblecore indie softboy" ruining her life is pretty fucking funny to me.
2) this might be overly ambitious, but I wanted to pull Annie into this universe and I wanted to do an unrequited crush thing between her and Armin? Or maybe a love triangle including Armin and Bertholdt? But I dropped that idea on account of juggling too many plot balls.
3) this hasn't come up yet, because it wasn't a big thing when I started headcanoning this au, but at this point I'm really interested on different characters and their takes on using AI for school. Who uses chatgpt for their assignments? Is Armin doing therapy sessions with ppl suffering from AI induced psychosis? Is this new technology cutting into Erna's side hustle writing papers for weed money?
Sorry it took me so long to answer this despite being the one who posted the asks and hoped for the engagement. idk what's wrong with me.
6) what's your hair routine like? Anything special?
Hair is so emotional. I've had issues with my hair my whole life, because it isn't straight and blond, which the culture and my family have always taught me is the best hair. Until more recent years, my hair was a thick and poofy mess of wild curls. I started turning grey when I was twenty and my hair is at least 75% completely white now. When your hair loses it's color, it's basically losing its life too, and a lot of its curl. So I finally have the effortless smooth beachy waves I've always wanted, but I lost all the pigment. I don't dye it, because, ya know... en esta economia? But I don't want to look old, so I do what I can to keep it healthy and shiny and undamaged. I rinse with freezing cold water, keep it in a bonnet at home, and use sulfate free shampoo & conditioner + a glycolic gloss. I never heat style.
18) are you musical? Play any instruments or sing? Would you ever perform for an audience?
Oh no. Not at all. Music isn't a thing I can do. I know a tiny bit about how to sing because of performing arts education I received against my will, but I have friends who are actual singers and hearing them talk about it for even a few seconds drives home how little I know. I will perform anything else for an audience. I'm very comfortable with speaking in public. But singing? Nah. Nobody needs to hear that.
20) What do you wish someone would ask you?
Like most fanfic authors, I love asks about my characters and stories. I cannot get enough of those. I wish that anyone who ever had an idea or question about my stories or characters would just tell me. Let me know! Do not keep that shit to yourself! I want to hear it! We can talk about this! What if you have a headcanon that I could be doing? What if your question makes me think of new headcanons?! Stop holding out on me!!
fucking insulting when the demand avoidance comes for me over asks in my inbox. this isn't the time or place. you asked for this. you literally asked for these asks.
the issue with writing for yourself is that you will get sucked into rereading your own fic over and over and pretend it’s “editing,” but really you’re just reading because it’s exactly what you want to read. because you wrote it. for you.
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