#‘From now on no matter how many people are around me I will always be alone!’

[adieutristana]

not sure why it won’t let me respond to this one, but i’d be happy to write it! thank you for the request <3

also yall know i sometimes share the songs i have on repeat. right now it’s ’wings of a butterfly’ by HIM. ugh, so addictive

summary; jinx’s girlfriend comforting jinx, who thinks she doesn’t deserve her.

characters included; jinx

tags/warnings; angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of poor mental health, a lot of crying and a panicked state, slight suicidal ideation, fluff

men dni.

jinx's mental state has always been... fragile, at best.

jinx never liked speaking of her past, preferring not to dwell on it. it was too painful for her, bringing tears to her eyes, her body quivering, sometimes even triggering hallucinations. as you spent more time by the girl's side, she began to slowly open up, dropping little details about her past every now and again.

she'll drop in anecdotes about her parents, or her childhood with vi, mylo, and claggor. she told you briefly about the job she went on that triggered the seemingly never-ending chain of unfortunate events that was her life, but she was always vague about it. shying away from the details, wincing when she even mentioned the incident on the bridge. most of what you had gathered about that time in her life was through word of mouth of others in zaun, bystanders who remembered it.

but you never push, never pry for more than she'll give you. it's not important to know every little detail, really, what matters is jinx here and now and how she's doing currently. how what happens has affected her and what you can do to support her.

in many ways, you've become the girl's crutch. her sanctuary of sorts, her safe place to come back to when the world gets too harsh or the voices become too loud. jinx navigates her life in fear, as much as she tries to put up a tough front- but you've never given her anything to be afraid of. that's one of the things that sets you aside from the other people in her life.

but tonight, it's all just so overwhelming. jinx can't shake the voices, can't shake the thoughts swirling around her mind. she's shaking, tears spilling from her eyes and lip quivering, her hands tugging at her braids and eyes squeezed shut. she tries to rock herself back and forth, trying to give herself some kind of comfort, but it isn't doing anything. she can't ground herself, can't shake the thoughts of worthlessness and the need to just disappear flying at her.

she knows that you're sleeping right next to her, and that makes jinx feel even worse. god, she's a mess. why can't she just let you sleep? be quiet and normal for once? you deserve better than this, surely, to be sleeping and have a girl losing herself next to you. she tries to stifle her sobs. the girl can't decide whether she wants your comfort or to just be left alone, leaving you to sleep and be okay without her. but it's all so much, jinx can barely form any coherent thoughts.

she hears you stirring next to her, blankets rustling, and jinx knows that she fucked up. her eyes blow wide, trying to rush over and coax you back to sleep, but you're groaning and blinking your eyes open.

"what... what's going on, love?"

you whisper, voice heavy with sleep.

"n-nothing, toots, just..." she sniffles, taking in a shaky breath. "go back to sleep... i'll be fine, i'll..."

she can't even finish her sentence before she's in hysterics again, you rushing to sit up beside her and scoot closer. sitting right next to your girlfriend's trembling form and taking both of her shoulders, trying to ground her somehow.

"jinx, baby, what's wrong?" you breathe out. "please, talk to me... i can't help you if you don't talk to me."

she's heaving, desperately trying to look at you, but her eyes are clouded with unshed tears.

"i don't deserve you. you should be with someone better than me."

she states, plainly. her voice is quiet and frail, holding eye contact with you... it's unsettling, frankly. you cautiously tighten your grip on her shoulders.

"what makes you say that? of course you deserve me."

she shakes her head slowly, sniffling.

"no. i'm a monster, a murderer," jinx mutters. "i've done bad things, babe. a lot of bad things."

you tilt your head, your voice dropping slightly. trying to use a softer, more soothing tone, trying to just get through to jinx.

"you think i don't know that?"

"you do. but i don't know if you understand it."

you're slightly taken aback by this, slowly swallowing and examining jinx's expression. she's so withdrawn, so cold. it's like she's not even there. you've seen your girlfriend in episodes before, shaking her head and screaming for the voices, the visions to stop. having to rock her back and forth in your arms as she settled down, gently shushing her. reminding her that everything is alright, she's safe, you're not going to let anything hurt her.

"honestly... maybe everyone would be better off without me."

this snaps you out of your thoughts, immediately grasping jinx even harder.

"don't you dare talk like that, jinx."

you say, voice stern. although, it makes jinx wince slightly, and that brings a feeling of harsh guilt, enveloping your very being in that moment. you can't bear to see her in any more pain than she's already in, especially to contribute to that pain.

"i just... i don't understand it. you're always so nice to me, and you don't bring up any of what i've done. even when i come back here covered in blood."

you gaze at her as she goes on, simply letting her talk. get it out, jinx. it's okay.

"why don't you care? anyone else would." she asks, a single tear falling.

"i'm not anyone else."

you whisper, hands coming to gently cup both of her cheeks. cradling her face in your hands, as if you were handling a piece of precious porcelain. that's not too far off, though. for you, jinx is the most precious thing in the entire world- far more precious than any money or items. she's your treasure.

"i know what you've done, jinx. i've seen it. and honestly, i don't give a shit."

jinx lets out a quiet gasp, feeling one of your thumbs coming to wipe her tears away, feeling sticky cheeks from all of the crying. poor girl.

"but-"

"none of that. i don't care. i know that there's good in you, because i've seen it. i see it every single day that i'm with you. you are anything but a monster."

your eyes are gazing into jinx's own, making sure that she gets every last word you're saying.

"you are a caring, talented, loyal girl, one who i've seen be gentle and kind when she wants to be. you've cared for me, loved me, protected me, all without asking for anything in return. that's rare, jinx."

she nods slowly, rosy eyes still locked with yours. she isn't saying anything, but you can tell that jinx is comprehending what you're telling her, taking it in.

"but you could have anyone." she protests. "i don't understand why you chose the crazy criminal."

"jinx, stop talking about yourself like that."

you say, pressing your forehead to hers.

"i chose you because you make me happy, and i love you, and again, i see the good in you. i don't want anyone else. i know that you get in your head like this, but i don't think any less of you for it. if anything, i admire your resilience."

you pause for a moment, before jinx finally lets up, slowly nodding along.

"...you promise?"

"i promise."

"you won't leave me?"

"i wouldn't dream of it."

jinx lets out a shaky breath, nodding again. slowly wrapping her arms around your waist and resting her chin on your shoulder, letting her eyes slip shut.

"let's get you in bed, okay?"

[akicine]

Not enough time ,but we’ll figure it out.(Jing Yuan x Reader)

There was never enough time .

Even with immortality, there was never enough time for you and Jing yuan to be together .

You knew , but you still wanted to remain next to him , to be close to him and care for him when nobody else could. However , in the later part of your life time , you’ve begun to regret it . He’s always somewhere that’s not with you .

You’re selfish.

Yet you can’t be blamed , you finally met up with him after a few months , and then he was taken from your grasp in less than 5 minutes .

Your heart clenches.

You love him , unbearably so , to the point you’re surprised that you haven’t succumbed to Mara . But you suppose that’s because you still want to talk to him rationally and not dead , six feet underground.

He seems lazy , arrogant sometimes , but that’s what drew you to him , and that’s how you always found the will power to drag yourself out of the rubble and continue fighting for him.

He always seemed so laid back and relaxed , it made you feel comfortable. In your earlier days , many people were afraid of you , having witnessed your relentless attacks .

He was the only one who wasn’t so tense.

You had felt comfortable around him , so very warm and soft with him. He gave off a soft motherly vibe to you , but that was when you had time to talk , to laugh and mess around without any duties .

Things have changed .

Now , he’s always in the seat of divine foresight, or sleeping , or evading Fu Xuan. That last part is reasonable , you once accidentally touched something while visiting her and ran away from her because of her glare.

But even then , you can’t visit him anymore , you can only smile at him and wave from a distance , not unlike any other person .

You wonder if he even acknowledges you anymore.

You sigh as you sit down on a bench in fyxstroll garden . There was a warning and a whole blockade to keep people out , but you were allowed inside because of your actions during the war.

You don’t dare say it’s because you’re Jing yuan’s lover.

Even when he saw you during the fight with Cirrus, he didn’t approach you after it , just stared at you for a few moments , then turned away and left .

Again.

He’s slipping from your grasp.

Your vision starts to blur as you feel tears well up in your eyes , your fists clenching into the fabric of your pants as you try to figure out where it all went wrong.

Did all the time you spent with him not matter?

Was he just pitying you when he accepted your confession?

Before you can spiral deeper into your self doubt , a large palm gently lands on your head , gently massaging your scalp as a deep , warm voice talks to you.

“Hello.”

You look up , tear streaking down your cheeks as you see the deep amber of his eyes soften gently .

“Why… why are you here?..”

Your voice cracks in the middle of your sentence, making you stop to clear your throat.

He’s so sorry for neglecting you these past centuries .

He has no excuse , but he supposes that he was scared of your opinion of him , all because of the high cloud quintets reputation.

He gently presses his lips to your hand as he kneels in front of you , watching your expression as your eyes widen .

“I sincerely apologize, for neglecting you all these centuries , and for breaking your heart. If you would allow me to, I would be honored to be allowed to court you again . Properly , without neglecting your needs .”

Your face slowly turns into an expression of deep sorrow as you ask , voice wavering.

“Promise?”

He looks up at you , staring into your eyes .

“Promise.”

When you kneel down with him and hug him , his arms instinctively fall to your waist and gently rub your back , knowing of how much you suffered from his neglect.

He promises on his life , to take care of you .

[everyonewooeverywhere]

hiiii!! i know i've been a bit inactive the past couple of weeks, but since we're nearing the end of the year, i really just wanted to express how appreciative i am of how much love this blog has gotten in the passed year.

i posted my first fic here almost a year ago now in one of the loneliest points of my life. i've struggled at school to make friends, my roomate and i weren't really clicking at the time, and all of my closest friends had been away at schools in other states while i stayed home. i was struggling. a lot.

and when i started this blog i had only ever intended for it to be a place where i read fics and moved on. i never intended to write anything, and i wasn't even an atiny at the time. no part of me intended to start writing or sharing it with anybody. but then out of no where i did. and despite how nervous i was to post that first fic, i can't imagine how my life would look now if i hadn't (as crazy as it sounds to say).

all of you have truly been so wonderful to me. this blog has fully become such a safe space for me. i've learned so much about myself. and i've met so many truly wonderful people. and i just want you all to know how incredibly grateful i am for all of you. and i hope you'll stick around for what the new year has in store 💗

and i know i can't personally cover everybody, but i do have a couple people i wanna thank directly:

@shinyj3lly & @bigboymoozz : thank you for feeling comfortable enough with me to always drop your thought in my inbox 🙏 even though i lowkey suck at responding sometimes, i promise i read and love every single one

@strawbshrtcks @linearities @autieofthevalley @crimsonbubble @yuyusbabygirl @vampzity & @minkieater : i know that now matter what i post, at least four of you are gonna reblog it, and it'll always make me smile. you truly fill up my notifs and i'm so fucking grateful. and ty for the top tier reaction pics.

@desirehorizon : thank you for always matching my freak. but also just thank you for being here. i always appreciate your presence on my dash and in my notifs so so much (even if drunk dee happens to make their appearance)

@gxredxll : idk what to say other than thank you for being here. you've been with me here since the beginning and i hope you know how much i cherish you.

@hwaslayer : genuinely one of my favorite writers on this site. and probably half the reason i'm yunho-biased. love you nikki and i promise to catch up on the space between us three soon~

@vesvosmozhno : ik we haven't been moots for long, but i need you to know your reblogs always make me chuckle. and you're just generally a blessing to have on my dash.

@kitten4sannie @pirateprincessblog @wwooyology & @honeyhotteoks : i was a fan of yalls writing well before we became mutuals, so just thank you for always being a blessing on my dash. (and being the reason i gasp with joy whenever i see a post of yours).

@beenbaanbuun : bunnyyyy, thank you for honestly just existing. you are just a wonderful person, and it's been so wonderful to be your friend for these past several months. thank you for being my crochet buddy and sharing you projects with me, i absolutely love seeing your work. and thank you for protecting my secret identity~ love you so so much.

@coffee-addict-kitten : god kiki i know we're always so sappy towards each other, but i just always feel the need to remind you how much you mean to me. we crossed the line from tumblr mutuals to very close friends a while ago, and i truly love you so much. and i hope you know that.

and to anyone who's every left a sweet message or even just come by and said hi, thank you all so much. ik this is super sappy, but that's really just the kind of person i am. so thank you for sharing this space with me 💗

[otomes-world]

Lucid dreaming

I haven't been the most productive writer this year. I'm also late with the congratulatory gift, but I'll continue anyway. This isn't exactly a New Year's themed work. I wrote it as unexpectedly as I posted it today. Thanks to everyone who's been with me this year! P.S. You can put here any of your favorite characters. Happy holiday my dear 0/

The sky was light purple with clouds running past, always hurrying somewhere. There was silence all around, broken only by the sound of footsteps on the stone-paved road. On the sides there were statues of various villains from different fairy tales. Why your consciousness decided to choose them was a question you would like to know the answer to.

This was not the first time you have found yourself in this place. Sometimes the locations were cut out illustrations from a fantasy book, and sometimes they seemed so real that sometimes you were surprised to wake up.

You remembered the very first one from the dream best. It was dark, the source of light was only the lanterns glowing green. Except for the full moon - because, of course, it had to be full - which was burning, a bright noticeable spot, already at this stage not boding anyting well. The road led you through a landscaped park and, it seemed, there was nothing unexpected in this. Until it turned and before your eyes appeared an ornate metal gate, the wicket door standing open. As if inviting you to enter.

In the distance, a castle stood proudly, its sharp towers piercing the sky.

Hearing a horse neighing behind you, you turned around abruptly and woke up. Blinking and trying to catch your breath after the sudden awakening, you replayed such a real scene in your head. As if you had already been there, which was a stupid statement. You were not the type of person running around abandoned buildings and shouting into the void with a flashlight: "Give me a sign!" However, dreams are dreams, and work and getting ready in the mornings were still necessary.

The cold water finally drove away the remnants of sleep, and the amazing dream would have been forgotten in the routine, if it had not been repeated the next night.

And the next.

And the one after that.

Throughout the year.

The bell caught your attention, and you looked up to greet the new customer. It was raining outside, and many people were rushing to hide under the shelter of the roofs of small coffee shops and stores. Yours was no exception.

Well, the cafe wasn't exactly yours. You just worked there as a barista, because, firstly, it wasn't difficult. Secondly, the pay was pretty good. Thirdly… you started working there as a teenager, and now the small establishment had become an integral part of your life. A second home, no matter how saccharine it may sound. You loved this place, and that was only thing that matters.

Usually, the hustle and bustle took up all possible free time and there were no thoughts for unnecessary reflections, but on such a melancholic day with an equally thoughtful accompaniment, it became an exception.

Despite the fact that dreams, against your will, also tightly merged with your everyday life, you could not deny how real they felt from time to time. The texture of objects, the wind on your skin, and even the banal emotions of what was happening. The only thing that kept you afloat was the next awakening after the invisible timer ended. Whatever you saw, whatever place you visited this time, in the end you opened your eyes in your apartment. You walked to your favorite job along familiar streets. You saw the same faces of passersby running through the shop windows to their business.

Everything was as it should have been.

However, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was slowly starting to change. You no longer felt lonely and restless in the world of dreams. As if you were being thrown into moments when someone was nearby. Even though you couldn’t see each other, the suspicion in the subcortex of your consciousness made itself known.

You first noticed this while sitting in the library, whose shelves with books stretched as far as the view could reach. It was quiet and, taking the first manual on flying on broomsticks that came to hand, you opened it to a random page and dozed off, propping your chin up with your hand. Sleeping in a dream was ironical but the sun shining through the window made you sleepy.

The chair next to you creaked, and you instantly opened your eyes. There was no one nearby. Frowning, you left the book, stood up and walked around the seats, peering around the corners. It was definitely a chair. As if someone had moved it to sit at the table. When you returned to your place, you discovered that the book was closed and put on the edge of the table.

Ghosts didn't exist, you repeated to yourself. Although you were actually asleep, so in the world of your consciousness they could be as real as, for example, you. The realization made you shudder unpleasantly, but not from the cold. The desire to return to the previous place disappeared and, casting another wary glance at the book, you turned to hide in the depths of the library. While away the time until you woke up.

From that moment on, you constantly began to notice someone's invisible presence. Moreover, you could swear that this someone noticed you. You simply did not have direct evidence of each other's existence.

Doubts gnawing from within deprived you of peace during the period intended for rest. Until, finding yourself in the library, you walked to the nearest table to grab a piece of paper and a pen. It looked and sounded stupid. Trying to find an explanation for the oddities in a dream was like asking unnecessary questions in a computer game.

"Are you here?"

Leaving a piece of paper and a pen nearby, you stepped away, turned on your heels and left. If the pen suddenly flew in and started scratching something, you couldn't promise that you wouldn't fall over on the spot. The anticipation was driving you crazy, but it was a necessary decision to try to calm yourself down.

After making a few circles, forcing yourself to read the spines of the books, trying to distract yourself, you walked back slowly. The items were where you left them, only next to your inscription there was another one.

"I'm here"

You dropped into a chair and not taking your eyes off the paper, afraid to touch it. You sat there until you woke up again.

A sigh escaped against your will, forcing your eyes shut and open a couple of times, you tried to straighten up. You probably weren't the best employee today, but the work shift flew by unnoticed. It was time to close. Stepping out into the hall and sitting down on one of the soft chairs, you rubbed the bridge of your nose. That incident wouldn't leave your head and although you never repeated such experiments, it was enough to turn your whole understanding of the dream world upside down. It was one thing to travel to an unknown place and quite another to realize that you were not alone.

The bell on the door rang - someone had arrived. Damn it, you forgot to close the door and turn the sign over. Pulling yourself together, you raised your head to meet an unknown man. Although he was outwardly calm, you noticed how interestedly he was looking around.

"Excuse me, sir, we are closed," you addressed him, drawing his attention to you. Something about him seemed vaguely familiar, but you definitely hadn't met before. You remembered most of the cafe's customers. "You can come in tomorrow, we are open from 8 am."

You looked at each other for a while. This gave you another chance to look him over. He was dressed in some sort of uniform: a black jacket and pants, a colorful vest, a white shirt and a striped tie. Then he closed his eyes and answered more cheerfully than you expected.

"Oh, that's too bad," his expression didn't match the bad - for him - news. "I was hoping to get out of the rain."

You glanced at the door behind him, and sure enough, the rain didn't seem to be letting up. A sentence you would never have uttered to anyone in your right mind was out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

The stranger's eyes narrowed slightly, revealing a happy glint in his eyes. For some reason, the unexpected remark rang in your head like a bell, even though no one was coming in. Without waiting for his answer - your intuition told you that he would not refuse - you went to the door and turned the sign over to "Closed".

"I need to close and clean up, it'll take me," you glanced quickly at the clock by the counter. "Half an hour or so. You can wait there until I'd finish but after you'll have to leave."

You did not believe in fateful meetings, but perhaps this was one of them? It sounded cheesy even to you, so you ignored the man who had settled down on a chair near the display case. Of all the places, he decided to choose this one.

With sheer willpower, you forced yourself to get down to work, already regretting your words. It was too late to take them back and throw him out into the street.

Surprisingly, he did not try to start a conversation with you, limiting himself to rare glances, for which you were grateful. If he suddenly decided to continue the dialogue, you would have caught a nervous overstrain. Enough impressions from this day.

You walked over to where he had been sitting, seemingly a moment ago, to wipe down the surface. Then you froze. There was a white paper napkin with just three words on it,

You finished wiping the tables and looked around the hall. As you got to work, you completely forgot about the man's presence. Turning to the counter, you found that he was no longer there. When did he leave and why didn't you hear? It saved you from unnecessary interaction, though.

"I'm here."

[bnhaobservation]

Where really Tenko’s choices not his own?

AFO ‘Yowai mama tsuyoku arou nado ā orokana Shimura Tenko. Omae wa ima made nani hitotsu erande nado inai noni.’AFO「弱いまま強くあろうなどああ愚かな志村転弧。おまえは今まで何一つ選んでなどいないのに。」AFO “Though you've become strong, you remain weak. Ahh, foolish Shimura Tenko. Even though until now you haven't chosen anything.’ [Chap. 418]

This is what AFO said to Tomura/Tenko at the end of chapter 418 and of course it sparked discussion because what is this supposed to mean? Of course Tomura/Tenko chose plenty of things, he had free will, hadn’t he? His body wasn’t always controlled by AFO, Tomura/Tenko took plenty of decisions or is this an attempt to take accountability from him?

To discuss this and what AFO really means I’m going to talk to you about something else.

Ever hear about informed consent?

When the hospital needs you to agree to undergo a certain treatment they don’t just need your consent, they need your INFORMED consent.

The informed consent process is an ethical and legal requirement for medical treatment. It ensures that you understand your diagnosis and your treatment options and agree to have specific medical treatment. This process involves ongoing and clear conversations between you and your healthcare provider. These conversations often lead to your decision to give (or not) consent for treatment. Informed consent protects your autonomy and your legal rights as a patient. Informed consent protects your ability to make your own decisions about medical treatment. It also protects your legal right to ask questions about recommended treatments.

And yeah, it also helps your healthcare provider but, for this discussion I’ll focus on what it does for you.

Basically, your decision to say ‘yes’ if you weren’t informed, is legally considered void of value. It doesn’t matter you freely said ‘yes’ if you weren’t informed your consent is not enough.

You might also have heard if you’re a minor even though you decide to give consent to some things, that consent holds no value.

Now you might wonder, where does this lead us?

Tomura/Tenko is not a minor nor he has to undergo under some medical procedure.

The mechanism behind decisions, behind choosing something, is always the same. We choose according to the information we have. Freedom of will isn’t the most important factor deciding our choices, it’s information and they dictate our choices to the point some can predict them.

We inform our decisions and opinions through experiences, be they personal or made just by observing others, through what people teach us be they our parents or our teachers or people we trust, through confronting with others be it in discussions or in arguments.

If you tell me I have to choose between eating a pear and an apple bar I’ll choose the apple because I know I hate pears but I like apples. This is my INFORMED decision.

If you however were to tell me the apple is poisoned I wouldn’t eat it because I don’t want to die, and this would also be my INFORMED decision.

If you were to lie to me and tell me the apple is perfectly safe to eat when it’s not, I would go back on eating the apple and this would be my INFORMED decision… and it would obviously suck because the information I was given was false.

In Tomura/Tenko’s case, what AFO is saying, is he’s behind each information about how the world work that Tomura/Tenko received.

He got his hands on Tenko when the latter was 5 but even before that age he began shaping the world around him, the experiences Tenko would make. When he took Tenko he told him to call him ‘sensei’ (先生). The English version translated it as “master” as it is a word with many translations but the more common translation is “teacher” which would fit more with how Tomura/Tenko asks him what will he teach him.

AFO taught Tomura/Tenko how he had to see and interpret the world, how he had to see and interpret himself and his feelings, how he had to see and interpret the others. He kept on filling Tomura/Tenko with information that were aimed at influencing Tomura/Tenko’s beliefs, perceptions, will.

AFO taught him that he had an impulse to destroy, that the itch is DUE TO IT instead than due to the abuse he was suffering in his home. That he shouldn't endure abuse or he'll be the only one to suffer, that coscience, morale, ethics are lies, fabrications.

Tomura/Tenko was a small kid, thanks to the trauma he forgot most of his past, which includes the teaching and experiences he had before, and AFO took care to keep always alive the trauma inside him.

Tomura/Tenko was mostly kept isolated, having solely the company of AFO, of Garaki and of Kurogiri. They were his source of ‘reliable’ information as he trusted them… only they were clearly not reliable.

But, you might say, what about the internet?

Tomura/Tenko has no net friends. AFO took care to give him a certain view of the world, so that every information Tomura/Tenko would receive through the web would be influenced by such view. Tomura/Tenko has no reason to doubt AFO, as far as he knows he’s his savior and caretaker and he has no one else.

If AFO tells him the net lies when it says All Might is a good person, that it’s wrong to destroy things, that it’s wrong to murder, why should Tomura/Tenko doubt AFO? Where are ‘reliable’ information telling him what AFO says is a lie, when the other people around him who take care of him (Garaki and Kurogiri) agree with AFO? Why should he trust the net, the people who abandoned him, over the people who’re so nice and caring toward him?

And the more time Tomura/Tenko is left in this world in which AFO is his main source of information the more those information become part of him, influence his perception of the world, his personality.

Remember when All Might first saw him and called him a ‘man-child’? It wasn’t a completely wrong definition, since Tomura/Tenko wasn’t really allowed to mentally grow by interacting with others who were his equal and presented different opinions and wills.

It's not he didn't have Quirk counselling what stilled his growth, it's not he didn't want to grow or something and that took advantage of the fact he had too much power which made him spoiled...

...what the Heroes didn't consider, mostly because they didn't really care WHY TOMURA/TENKO IS LIKE THAT was that it was trauma and manipulation that made him like that. Tomura/Tenko experienced the world and the battles through roleplay games not through real interactions.

AFO was always around him, shaping him, telling him he can do what he wants and that everything was for him and Tomura/Tenko has no reason to believe he was lying, has no reason to think his words though.

Tomura/Tenko decides, but as his choices are all informed by AFO and AFO lies to him, his choices are all dictated by wrong info and manipulated in a certain direction. Even if he's told he can do what he wants his choices aren’t really ‘free’ because he doesn’t really know what he’s choosing and what he’s rejecting, because he’s not informed correctly.

Yes, inside him there’s his own persona, he’s not a complete will-less doll, but this matters little when all the information he receives are manipulated and he has not the means to realize it and AFO knows it. He’s a master manipulator, he knows how to give Tomura/Tenko the belief he’s choosing of his own free will when it’s AFO who put such ideas and beliefs in his head.

Tomura/Tenko is 20 when he is first sent against All Might and can interact with people with a diametrically opposite mind setting compared to AFO.

Still Tomura/Tenko’s first confrontation with All Might is easy for him to dismiss, AFO raised him thinking Heroes and especially All Might are a certain type of people, so All Might’s words are easy to dismiss like empty rhetoric and pretty words (remember? one of the first things he was taught is that coscience, moral, ethics are fabrications that allow people [aka Heroes] to run the world smoothly) and All Might clearly didn’t act in such a way it would positively impress Tomura/Tenko.

Tomura/Tenko views him as a representative of state-sponsored violence and All Might can’t prove him wrong because… he has to use violence to protect everyone.

Tomura/Tenko wasn’t taught to care about the nobility of the mean, for him use of violence makes Villains and Heroes alike and yet they’re split in two groups… but most of what Tomura/Tenko says is something that’s not really coming from him but from AFO’s indoctrination. They aren’t really HIS ideals yet, even All Might realizes so.

What Tomura/Tenko has in that moment is hate for All Might and society. When Stain will force him to tell him which is his conviction, this is what Tomura/Tenko says, not all the rest. He hates All Might and society.

AFO’s indoctrination was meant to manipulate him into believing why he hates them, but the truth is what Midoriya will nail at the end, society and All Might didn’t save him when he was an innocent child, not yet a Villain, and left him miserable. His father, AFO, they all told him this happened because Heroes and society are fundamentally bad. Due to this teaching Tomura/Tenko hates them with a passion, because he feels victimized by them. They’re the cause of his misery.

Stain’s words are harder to ignore as Stain is no Hero and Kurogiri wanted them to join forces and yet Stain attacked him… but then let him live. All of sudden someone who’s not a Hero makes something unpredictable. Tomura/Tenko tried to compete with him and loses, everyone is impressed by Stain and not by him and makes wrong assumptions on them. Touya and Himiko comes to him but he doesn’t understand their behavior. Ultimately he talks with Midoriya.

The talk doesn’t dramatically change him, it merely helps him to reframe everything in a familiar contest. It’s All Might’s fault, he decides, and this is what AFO taught him, but he doesn’t realize he’s parroting what his master taught him.

Ironically, his talk with Midoriya actually helps him to internalize, to interiorized what AFO taught him, because now HE HAD TO PONDER OVER THE SITUATION AND CONFRONT WITH SOMEONE ELSE, which is the first step to makes ideas your own as now they would come from you… but since he tackles that confrontation using the tons of info AFO poured into him and Midoriya is just a kid who makes wrong assumptions of him… well, the result ends up being that now Tomura/Tenko doesn’t just merely absorb AFO’s information but embraces them as if they were his own ideas.

This is what AFO wanted when he said there’s no point in simply telling Tomura/Tenko  an answer but that he needs to reach the conclusion himself.

In a way it’s a test to see if all the wrong information he has given him for years now really live inside him and have become his own. AFO knows that now that Tomura/Tenko is a man, albeit one kept immature, if he has succeeded in influencing him then it would be difficult to completely change his mind after 15 years of manipulations.

He’s not wrong, to completely change Tomura/Tenko’s mind would be difficult… but it isn’t impossible to partially change it, especially since Tomura/Tenko will then keep on interacting with the League… and won’t interact anymore with AFO so that AFO won’t manage anymore to teach him how to interpret his experiences.

In this new contest free of AFO the little of Tomura/Tenko’s original personality kind of come back to life, the League become precious friends he wants to protect. Ironically Tomura/Tenko, who hates Heroes because they abandoned him, want to be a Hero for the League. He doesn’t want to be their master or their ruler, all things AFO wants to be, Tomura/Tenko wants to be a Hero.

AFO used to say everything is all for him but now Tomura/Tenko wants everything to be for his companions, when he’ll submit Re-Destro he’ll ask suchi for them because they wanted it, he won’t force Touya to do what he doesn’t want to do, he promises he won’t destroy what Himiko loves, he let Shuuichi get angry at him.

Tomura is taking some choices that don’t come from AFO and could have taken more if he were to be given more time as he already wanted to be different from AFO and AFO’s attempt to take over his body as well as the revelation he manipulated him likely would have pushed Tomura/Tenko to reconsider everything he knew that influenced his mind and his decisions.

However plenty of what he chooses through the story come from AFO, from how he had taught him to see and feel the world, from the experiences he forced him to go through. We see it in the first war. AFO fed Kotarou’s resentment for Nana, which lead to Tenko’s abuse, AFO made sure Tomura/Tenko wandered for the city while no one helped him and when Tomura/Tenko faces the Heroes he quotes what he learned from that experience, that Heroes hurt their families to save strangers, that society is trash he says as he thinks back at how no one helped him. Society would always reject him, he says strong of his experiences which were manipulated by AFO. AFO taught him he has to free his violent impulses his wish for destruction that whatever tells him the contrary is a lie fabricated by society (chap. 237). Tomura wants to destroy because that’s how AFO taught him he has to fight the pain inside himself. Because he thinks his decaying Quirk is a reflection of his own personality, of his own role. He’s born to destroy… and this idea, as well as his Quirk… well they both come from AFO (and society, to be honest, as society tended to judge people’s personalities tied with their Quirk).

So, where this leaves us?

Tomura/Tenko did make some small choices that didn’t come from AFO… but too much of him come from AFO to the point if AFO had never meddled with his life he would have likely grown into a completely different person, with a completely different set of experiences and information that would inform his decisions.

As we don’t know which experiences and information he would have had, we can’t tell who he would have become (for example AFO gave him the decay Quirk and this influenced him into thinking he’s born to destroy but we don’t know which was his original Quirk. If he were to have a Quirk which also destroyed, he could have come to the same conclusion). Maybe he would have turned into a Hero, maybe he would have turned into an ordinary person, maybe he would have turned into an even worse Villain. Wondering over this is material for fanfics not for meta.

What remains true though is that way too many of present Tomura/Tenko’s important choices come from AFO, from what AFO taught him, that he shaped so much of his persona and actions that what AFO says about Tomura/Tenko never choosing anything is only partially incorrect at the end of the story and probably completely true at the start of it.

So yeah, as unpleasant as it is there’s a huge part of truth in AFO’s words… but it could have turned into a lie had Tomura/Tenko been given more time because, first he was freed of AFO’s influence and free to interact with others and second because AFO revealed his game and made clear he wanted to take over Tomura/Tenko’s body so he wasn’t the caring and disinterested benefactor he painted himself to be for 20 years and Tomura/Tenko didn’t have to take his words as reliable anymore.

A complete turn over would have probably been hard without a positive influence in his life, but for sure Tomura/Tenko would have been free to revaluate all he’d been taught by AFO and judge it again through the lenses of those new info.

But well, in the end he died so we’ll never learn what he could have done, which is just sad.

So is Tomura/Tenko innocent because manipulated?

There’s a part of the world population that think that inborn in humans there’s still the ability to choose between right and wrong even if they’re manipulated… and in real life it’s extremely hard to establish how much manipulated can be a person and how much it was due to them. Many don’t want to think that you can take a perfectly normal child and turn him into a serial killer through carefully raising him as such.

Discussing about this would be a minefield that would require psychological and educational degrees and probably would still see experts arguing because we can’t really test this theory and check if a baby is perfectly psychologically healthy and then try to raise him as a psychopath, and repeat the experience until we’ve enough data to judge, can we?

Real life cases weren’t cases which were carefully observed from start to end as an experiment would require so they leave the door open to speculation.

Long story short… this meta isn’t here to tell you if a real person can be raised and manipulated that much all his choices come from another and he’s unable to take them for himself.

This is a meta to tell you that from what we know and what we could observe Tomura/Tenko was manipulated from young age and that the majority of his life choices, especially the ones that lead him to become a Villain, were due to this.

Not that it would have made any difference in the BNHA world where Aoyama, a teen acting under duress, is viewed as a terrible Villain because, when threatened to be killed and have his parents killed if he weren’t to comply with AFO’s wishes, he choose to comply.

[rekino2114]

Hey could I get Lacey with a reader who kisses her (with her permission of course) all over her face while saying praises about them and how much they love her?

I want to see her happy and in a loving relationship so badly now ever since I saw your post

Kissing and comforting lacey

Pairing:lacey x gn reader

Tw(if you've seen lacey, you know):abuse depression,suicidal thoughts,just trauma in general (all of this is implied, and lacey has kind of healed from her childhood)

A/n:God, just writing all of the trigger warnings made me so fucking angry, lacey deserves only the best in this world, sorry it took so long to finally make a post about her and PLEASE keep requesting stuff for her I want to make her feel the love she needs and deserves

Lacey felt like she was trapped. All of the abuse she suffered was just the norm for her, and she knew that despite how desperately she tried, she could never get out. Despite how desperately she wanted to go get ice cream and go shopping and maybe find a partner, she could never, she was trapped here and she couldn't do anything about it.

That was until you came in her life.

You helped her get away from that hell. You gave her the strength to do what she wanted to do for her entire life, and you supported her the whole way through. She genuinely could never thank you enough for what you did for her.

But no matter how much you helped her heal the scars still remained.

She had woken up sweating and panting from another nightmare, she grabbed her cheek and started crying silently, she didn't want to wake you up. Even if you had always told her that she could come to you for whatever reason and especially to talk, she still felt hesitant to do so, she had already told you everything and she thought that she was bothering you by continuing to tell you about her trauma. Just like she was bothering everyone else by living

She continued sobbing until she felt a pair of arms wrap around her and a familiar warmth encompassing her, she didn't flinch as she immediately knew it was you

"Y-y/n!"

"Is everything OK lacey? Were you crying?"

"N-no it's fine"

You sighed and continued hugging her

"Lacey, you know you can tell me everything, I won't force you if you don't want to, but I know you're not ok"

Lacey laid down and hugged you back, facing you and closing her eyes

"........i-it was a nightmare"

".....about your childhood?"

"Y-yeah"

You saw her shiver and got worried

"D-do you mind if I hug you a bit tighter, you look scared'

She simply nodded as you tightened you grip, making sure it was not too tight and still comfortable

"Like I said before, it's fine if you don't wanna talk about it, I know how traumatic it was, but just know I won't let anything happen to you"

Lacey opened her eyes and stared into yours, her own grip tightening

"I love you, and you're perfect. You're beautiful, hardworking, kind, and gentle, I could keep going on forever. It's genuinely incredible how you didn't let your past influence who you are now. A lot of people would be so envious of you for that"

"I-i think a lot of that is because of you.....y-you helped me grow and move past all that-"

"Maybe, but I wouldn't have been able to do that if you weren't this strong, you have no idea how many people would have been powerless to do anything in your situation even with someone like me, you have such a strong will, I am so proud of you....for everything"

The blue haired girl felt a small smile creep up on her face, seeing that you smiled slightly too and touched her cheeks, before quickly pulling back

"O-oh I'm sorry"

"N-no it's fine I don't mind. Your touch....is nice. It makes me feel safe"

Your smile widened as you guided your hand back to her cheek

"Do you mind if I kiss you?"

"......no I don't mind at all, please do it"

You started kissing her face very gently, leaving very soft kisses all over her. She started smiling even brighter and blushed slightly

"You're wonderful lacey, you deserve only the best"

"T-thank you"

"You don't need to thank me, I'm just telling the truth"

"......still, it means a lot"

"And that's why I'm telling you that, cause I want you to know how much you mean to me"

She muttered another thank you and kissed your cheek this time before closing her eyes.

She still felt your lips on her skin and your sweet words in her ears, and they helped her so much. With you, she felt like all of her past, all of the abuse, her uncle, all the other horrible people, it all felt like a distant memory or a bad dream like the one she just had.

All of the crushing expectations people put on her, all of the terrible abuse she went through, all of the times she thought of just ending it all. They were all gone because of you, the ray of sunshine in that permanent thunderstorm that her life used to be.

Sure, she still had nightmares, but she was glad for exactly that, that they were just nightmare now thanks to you.

So she fell asleep rocked by your words and touches, glad that now she was going to have beautiful dreams of your life together.

[oralmisery]

Dear the King of Hawkins

The Love Letters were a means of catharsis, a way for Eddie to bare his soul. In private. They were never supposed to be sent.

Especially the one to Steve Harrington.

Basically a To All the Boys I've Loved Before au💌

[ complete fic on ao3 ]

Rating: E | WC: 12,293 | tags: Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Happy Ending, Light Dom/sub, Dom Eddie, Sub Steve, One Shot, Porn with Feelings

When Steve sees the envelope he isn't sure what to think. It takes him a moment to even register who Eddie Munson is. In Steve’s circles, he’s usually referred to as “The Freak”. 

Munson is practically a permanent fixture of Hawkins high. A smear in the background, here to blemish Steve’s senior year since he flunked his own. If it's not Munson then it's some other oddly dressed weirdo. There's always people like that. The outcasts, the dregs, the ones you ignore. Except Munson. He’s pretty hard to ignore when he’s standing on lunch tables and being generally obnoxious. It's probably why there's so many rumors about him. Well that and being one of the only sources for drugs in town, Munson squeaks out of most beatdowns; what people can't punch they talk shit about.

People say all sorts of things. Satan worshiper. Nerd. Loser. Trash. Creep. Dangerous. Freak. Steve’s not sure how he can be a nerd and dangerous at the same time but he doesn't give it much thought. He's never even spoken to the guy. Tommy always got the weed on the rare occasion they wanted to smoke. 

That's why getting a letter from him was weird. It came in the mail. The mail. Mixed in with bills and coupons. It has a stamp, a little American flag. There is no reason for the guy to reach out to Steve, especially through the postal service.

Dear the King of Hawkins,

I'm sure every day is a sunny one when it's spent on a throne and under a crown. The way you walk these halls no one would believe otherwise. Everyone around you–drawn to your wealth, your looks and confidence–are just subjects turned fools. Led equally by charm and wrath. I wonder what it would be like to be favored in your court? To sit at your side, shoulder to shoulder, instead of distanced by so much more than just space? I can only piece together a flawed fantasy. A distorted image made from the glimpses I get from outside the castle gates. Assuming I’m even considered part of the kingdom, that is.

What the fuck is this. Steve snickers, did the freak send him a sad hate letter? Maybe to everyone in school? Tommy was going to have an absolute riot when he showed him, maybe they can compare letters.

I hope you at least know my name, Hawkins being as small as it is. You've never once looked at me like you actually see me. I know because I can't stop looking at you. Even though you're an entitled asshole, I happen to agree with what anyone with eyes can see. You are so beautiful I think they need to make a new word for it.

Alarms start ringing in his ears. He scans that last line over and over. No matter how many times he reads it, it doesn't change. He checks the front of the envelope to make sure it's really from Munson.

I wasn't surprised when you received your royal title. You’ve always had a way of commanding attention. Inspiring people to follow you blindly with enduring loyalty. I noticed it when I first moved here. I joined the 5th grade class halfway through the school year and everyone already knew each other. I was alone and scared shitless. I know you don't remember but that first week you invited me to a game of tag on the playground. You were genuinely nice, funny even. You made me feel like I could actually have friends here. Then Tommy returned to school after having the flu and we never talked again. I still remember your grin though, you had a tooth missing on the bottom row. Sometimes I see hints of that kid now, usually when you're talking up girls. I've got this sadistic urge to see your smile with a few teeth missing, just to compare you with your younger self. Which is entirely plausible with the fights you get into, but I fear the temptation to kiss you better will be too much.

He's right, Steve doesn't recall that at all. He's trying in vain to remember, but his memory has never been great and he's coming up blank. Can't even imagine Munson as a little kid, probably without his signature long hair. Nobody describes Steve as nice and actually means it. He skips over the word kiss because it’s giving him a terrible stomach ache. He drops into a chair and sets the letter on the kitchen table so the sweat on his palms doesn't smudge the paper.

Ya know, while I agree with the king stuff, I much prefer “The Hair”. Talk about temptation. Your hair haunts me. It makes my brain stutter, I want to simultaneously pet it softly and pull it out of your skull. I get why people used to give locks of hair as mementos. If I had a piece of yours, I'd twirl it around my fingers, imagining what I could do to the source. I want to see those brown waves messy, tug on them until your head looks like a bird nest. I want to see your hair spread out on my sheets. I want to find strands of it on my jacket, in my van, and clogging my shower drain.

It's hopeless, this infatuation. Fucking terrible in all honesty. You're a distraction I can't afford. I'm pretty sure I failed history last semester solely on the fact that you chew pens. It's a cruel combination; wandering attention and a vivid imagination. With the amount of times I've pictured you stretched around my cock, fingers, and tongue I can almost recall you clenching down on me like a real memory. I imagine opening you up real slow until you're begging for it with tears dripping down your face. The background changes like flipping through channels on a TV. Over the hood of your stupid car, Mrs. O'Donnell desk, the picnic table behind the school, anywhere that has a surface really. I probably imagine us most in my bed though. 

Steve’s stomach twists and revulsion burns his throat. It's fucking gross, Munson is a guy . And why the hell would Steve be the receiver in all this? Unwanted, graphic images play behind his eyes. He can't help it, the letter is descriptive. He can feel cold metal on his stomach and wood chafing along his back. Taste phantom salt from tears. He reaches up to run a jittery hand through his hair but aborts the gesture midway when he thinks about Munson wanting to do the same exact thing.

He considers just ripping up the letter without reading the rest but sick curiosity stops him. Like peeking out between fingers to watch a scary movie.

If it was just lust I could handle it. Teenage hormones and all that. But it's deeper than that, more than sex, I want you to look at me like everyone looks at you, like a king. It's horribly cliché but I want you to call me baby and hold my hand. Most of all I want to show you that someone cares about you because I'm worried you don't know that. There's this look on your face when no one else is watching, like you're not here but you want to be. Like you're waiting for something that's not coming. I think it's loneliness. Heaven knows I've felt it enough to recognize it. Maybe that's why I'm still harboring this torch for you even though it’s pointless. I wish I had the chance to make you happy, to take care of you and erase the word abandonment from your vocabulary. Even now, through the crowd, in the bleachers, the other side of the cafeteria, across the entirety of this shitty town, you're not alone because I'm there loving you every second of the day.

Yours,

Eddie Munson

A drop of liquid falls onto the paper, right next to Eddie’s signature. It knocks Steve out of his mental spiral and he reaches up to wipe at his eyes. He didn't even realize they were leaking tracks down his face. 

you're not alone because I'm there loving you every second of the day.

What the fuck is this. Eddie “the freak” Munson is in love with him? What's more upsetting is Steve’s gut reaction; he doesn't deserve it. This level of devotion. He suddenly sees himself from an outside perspective. He's not a good person. There's an inherent reason why his parents are gone most of the time, his friends are mean and shallow, and he jumps from girl to girl. There’s something lacking in him that drives people away, unless he–what were Munson's words?– leads with charm and wrath .

How does Munson know he's lonely when Steve didn't even know? It's mortifying to put an actual word to the feeling. That his efforts to surround himself with people, the “right” people, have apparently meant fuck all. He must look so pathetic to Munson, a deadbeat loser, who sees through him like glass.

What’s the guy’s deal? Why did Munson even send this? What does he expect from Steve? He wrote the words himself. Hopeless. Pointless . There's no ask to meet up, not even a request for an answer. He just drops this bomb into Steve’s life and expects to make a quiet exit? Just wants Steve to know he's loved for the sake of it? That’s dramatic even for the freak. The guy spends too much time doped up if he thinks he's going to flay Steve open and get away with it.

Yours,

Eddie Munson

Steve traces over the word Yours, with a finger. He’s going to get answers. 

[ continue reading ]

[fferthe]

ENTRY NUMBER ELEVEN.

Who are they?

Note: It's not X!Kris and it's not XI, as many have mistakenly assumed. XI is not canon and was simply a joke that went on for a bit too long, everything related to XI has been taken down. As for the former, there's no such thing as XTale Kris and Jakei had to repeatedly correct people due to the misconception.

Their attire is very atypical for a child their age, they have a purple necklace of ambiguous shape, and seem to have at least a half of XGaster's SOUL, judging by their pupils. While it's possible for XGaster to create an artificial SOUL of a red trait, the same cannot be said for his own trait. And they couldn't have had the SOUL itself (or even a part of it) in their possession at any point during XTale. The glimpse we get of them is from the future. However, given the lines "GET READY" and" YOUR TIME IS COMING", it must mean that they've already existed by that point in some shape or form, albeit soulless.

It must've been created prior to timeline IX and saved to the infamous 'data compilation' for later use.

And yes, created. Their hair don't match anyone's, although X!Chara comes very close. It's unlikely that he OVEWROTE someone. Despite XGaster's intimidation last episode, X!Chara would only be used as a puppet at best. Same goes for X!Frisk.

Thanks to his shenanigans, we know that a human body can contain a SOUL of another human within it. This cohabitation reflects in the subject's appearance.

But what happens when a monster's SOUL is tied to a human body? See, the wording here is quite interesting. With the SOUL and body of a monster. Does it entail that other combinations are viable? Well, from what I'm seeing, they must be. Now, the question stands: for what grand purpose were they created? And why do they share a SOUL with XGaster? Perplexed by their outfit, I had an epiphany.

They have his SOUL, his outfit—it's like they serve to be his vessel. The line "AS CLEAR AS A REFLECTION IN A MIRROR" also gives me that idea. It may simply be an expression, but that's quite uncharacteristic of him, even though he tends to be cryptic about things. There could be more to it than meets the eye.

Y'know, no matter how unpleasant something may be, XGaster is always willing to sacrifice his and others' comfort for the 'bright future'. We've seen what lengths he would go to when chasing his visions. What if the 'perfect world' required him to abandon his current shell and don human flesh? He'd comply. What if he intended to replace Frisk, the 'player' of that world?

This bit can be taken as a callback to the fact that he tried to off himself back in timeline 0 and is still in immense pain as shown in 0.7-2..

Or as reincarnation. And after looking around, turns out that there's also a secret in the 2 black frames that come after this sequence!

By tweaking the brightness and contrast, you see a very fuzzy silhouette. Well, isn't that interesting?

Also, fun fact, if you speed up the entry clip by 666%, you'll get this theme.

The theme plays at 27:50 during entry 19.

And I might be going coocoo at this point, but hear me out on this one.

XGaster's birthday is on 11/11. The entry is number 11. This gotta count for something, right? There are 11 videos in the XTale playlist, so his might as well be considered 11th. Matches up with his birthday date, doesn't it?

Anyways thanks for coming to my ted talk

[inkedinfusions]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐲 | eren jaeger chapter 11

⊱𖣂⊰ | In which you fall into a fictional world with the key to Pandora's box.

⊱𖣂⊰ | masterlist

⊰– prev   next–⊱

𝟏𝟏 | 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤

chapter word count: 3.7 k

content warnings: floch forster jumpscare warning, blanket warnings

a/n: Last chapter of the year! Happy New Years everyone. Sorry Floch lovers I really did try to be nice to him but he started being an asshole outta nowhere. He is still Very traumatized from Shiganshina part two and still hold the grudge against the volunteers, because he isn't yet at his Eldian Restoration arc. So, you know. Anyway. Also longest chapter to date! Idk how I went from thinking I wasn't going to finish this in time to writing a ton more of what I expected. Like always, special thanks to my beta reader for proofreading my stuff and picking out the name of the chapter when I ran out of creative juice :) edit: WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME I WROTE THE WRONG NAME LMAO

Thanks for reading!

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 way back to the tent barracks when the sun starts to poke its form over the horizon, turning the dark void of the sea into a mixture of gold and water. Loose rocks crunch underfoot as you make your way around the small alcove, tracing back the path you had taken before in your erratic state. 

You are much calmer now than before, even if the conversation with Eren mainly served to confirm your greatest fears. The explosions, the church, someone – Sasha, probably – lying dead on the floor, the gruesome march of the Titans. Even so, you know that panicking won't help you at this moment. 

It was frustrating before, because you’ve known this for quite some time now, and yet the incoherence of your half formed thoughts wouldn’t stop flowing no matter how much you tried to rationalize them. 

That is, until you found something else to focus on, someone else to share it with. 

So you trot along the wild grass, which sways gently in the morning wind, shaking off the remnants of the cool morning dew. Insects begin to wake up, buzzing all around, and the birds begin to sing from the trees, some more awake than others. 

The camp is already bursting with life, a completely different landscape than the day before, for now there were not only a few scattered soldiers here and there, but a brigade of people walking around. 

As you crane your neck around to see, you notice that a handful of them seem to be on break or in between tasks, as they walk leisurely around the structures. Others are hauling what seem to be a couple of crates onto a cart, and several more are tending to some horses. 

“This isn’t the way to the barracks,” you tell Eren, after realizing you are severely off the path that arrives there. 

“I figured you wanted to eat first,” he says. “You didn’t wake up for lunch yesterday. Or dinner.”

Oh. You really have to fix that – it's only when Eren says this that you feel the emptiness of your stomach, only fueled by the smell of food emanating from the ever approaching canteen. 

It is a temporary structure, just like all of the others in the camp, and so it carries with itself the flimsiness that is only present in things as fleeting as passing thoughts. Yet the canteen lingers just like many of your thoughts seem to do, providing all weary soldiers a hot meal and a chance to socialize with their fellow peers. 

You still attract some glances here and there, mainly from soldiers who didn’t get the chance to gawk at you yesterday, only knowing of your existence from the rumors that you're sure have already circulated back to the Walls. 

“What's for breakfast today, then?” you ask.

“Porridge, I think,” he says. “Get ready to eat the same thing almost everyday,” he continues, cracking a grin.

“I can live with that,” you say, pausing briefly before going on. “Back home, my parents left for business trips at times, so I just learned to do basic dishes and ate the same thing everyday.”

Unlike past instances where you have talked about your life before the whole… incident, you don’t feel a gaping hole inside your lungs, where all the air you attempt to take in leaves suddenly. There is nostalgia and longing in your voice for sure, but the hurt you had experienced at first when you tried to remember them had lessened in might. 

You noted this with satisfaction, not wanting to be chained by emotional thinking. Before you stood a road that would probably span for a few years, and you needed to think as logically as possible in order to traverse it. 

Eren nods and you both continue walking, until, to your surprise, he shares his own story about his own mother, Carla. 

“My mom used to make me and Mikasa little loaves of bread for us to take when we went out to look for firewood. We used to cup our hands around them in winter to keep warm.”

“Oh,” you say. “I'm sure she had a wonderful spirit.”

“Yeah,” he says. “She did.”

You aren’t sure why he brought up his mom at that moment. You know that the death of Carla Jaeger is one of his principal motivations in what he deems his goals to be, but it is also a deeply personal part of his past. While it would not be weird for someone to relate with their own story, it is unusual for him to share so. 

You resume your comfortable silence, enveloped by the sounds of the lively camp. Your steps aren’t coordinated by any means, but there is still a harmony to be found in the way your feet strike the earth. 

Eren steps to the side to let you in first, although you still have to wait for him to come in before you move forward in any direction. You could adapt to a certain point, having seen the series and thus knowing many of the protocols used – also a courtesy from Zeke who had transcribed some of Reiner’s reports. It was fun to memorize them, less so to watch them burn and disintegrate on the stove after you finished. 

You aren’t sure if you are lucky or not that you were dropped off in such an era. On one hand, it could definitely be worse; you could’ve appeared right when Eren activated the Rumbling, or at least months before, when there was not much you could do. You could have been found by literally anyone else but the Volunteers and your safety in Marley could’ve been in jeopardy, and that was not even touching on the opportunity to sail to the island presented by the faction. 

Could be better though. You could’ve never stepped foot in this world, nor the horrors that accompanied it. But now you are here, and so now you would do your best to ensure their happy ending – or at least one where genocide wasn’t the endgame. 

“So do I just take a bowl…?” you ask, unsure, as you approach a line you assume is meant for people who want their breakfast. 

“Yeah, and a spoon. They’re right there,” Eren says, pointing to a tray. “And then after we are done you just put any dirty dishes on that cart over there.”

He gestures to your left, and sure enough, there is a cart half full of dirty dishes just beyond where the line ends and the soldiers in queue are given their food. Although the vibe is definitely military, it still reminds you of a school cafeteria. The young median age of the soldiers definitely has something to do with it, and if you were feeling more pessimistic you would definitely dwell on it for longer than necessary. 

But today hunger triumphs it all, so you follow Eren to the queue, awaiting your turn. The line moves quickly, so it is not long before it's your turn to grab a bowl and spoon. 

The porridge is simple, beige, crumply. Not particularly appetizing but definitely better than you expected. It was similar in consistency to the oatmeal you used to prepare when Zeke went away on missions and you couldn’t muster up the energy to make anything more complex.

“This way,” Eren says, guiding you to thread around the occupied tables. 

On the other side of the canteen sits a table filled with the only people you recognize in the sea of soldiers; the members of Squad Levi. 

From where you were standing a few moments ago, and even now as you’re approaching, they look like any other teenagers during a lunch break, laughing and chatting and eating. But there is a weariness that hangs around them all, one you presume to be mainly because of the recent battle. Yeah, a year had passed, but you know that what happened there was something that clung to oneself. 

It is different from seeing them on the screen. There you couldn’t make sense of the atmosphere, but here it is clearer than ever that these are just teenagers forced to grow up fast in order to survive their world. 

As if sensing your gaze, Armin turns around to look at you, waving you over when he realizes who you are and who you are with. 

They are not in the corner, per se, but they are still hidden by a few full tables. Just as you approach, one of said tables empties, its former occupants chatting as they walk towards the exit. Now you know why you hadn’t seen them when you first entered; they blocked the view from where you stood. 

Eren greets them with a smile as he sits next to Mikasa. There are two other empty seats, one next to him and another one right in front of it, next to Jean. You hesitate for a second before choosing the first option. Jean was nice enough to you yesterday, even if he was kinda wary of you, but you don't want to make him more uncomfortable so you take a seat to the far right, sandwiching Eren between you and Mikasa. 

“Uh, hi,” you offer, a bit lackluster. 

“Hello!” Armin says, as positive as ever. He puts you a bit more at ease, and you hope that your eyes convey that to him. 

Sasha, seated in front to the far left, greets you in similar fashion, although she doesn’t speak because she is currently too preoccupied with scarfing down her porridge. Next to her, Connie raises a hand in greeting, and Jean, seated directly to your left diagonally, nods at you. Mikasa, on the other side of Eren, nods at you too. 

You feel like the new girl that has been taken in by the popular clique at school, if the clique consisted of humanity’s best soldiers and the school was their military branch. You felt severely out of place – like with Reiner, you knew too much about these people, yet also too little. You had seen their most vulnerable, their most raw moments in 4k, and still you didn’t know how to start a conversation with them. 

“Did you settle in okay? I know it's not the most welcoming environment,” Armin says. 

You suck in a breath, thinking back on your panic attack in the early dawn. “Yeah,” you lie. “The cot was nice after staying a day in a storage room. I don't recommend it if you're a fan of having a working spine.”

Connie chuckles at your half assed attempt at a joke. “Speaking of, we saw you disembark from the side, like…” he trails off, before pointing at you with his spoon when he finds the word he's looking for. “Like you were sneaking out. Were you?”

Sasha elbows him, almost sparking a fight between them, before Jean slaps both of them on the back of the head. “Stop squabbling,” he says. 

“Never thought I’d side with Jean,” Eren mutters, low enough for only you and Mikasa to hear. 

“I was… undercover? Yeah, undercover. I don’t have the age to pass for a soldier, so we had to get creative.”

“Oh!” Armin exclaims. “Undercover? Like a detective?”

“Much more boring than that, I promise you,” you say, forming an x over your chest with your arms. “I just did nothing for a day. I wasn’t allowed to leave the storage room, and even if the door wasn’t locked I’d be way too nervous to do that.”

“You were locked there?” asked Mikasa, her brows furrowing just a fraction. “What if the ship sank?”

“Uh,” you say, blanking. “I’d… figure it out? That’s actually a great point.” You mutter the last part, bringing a hand to your chin. It was great indeed that the ship did not sink. You weren’t sure if you would have been saved if it did. 

“It sounds to me like you were more of a prisoner there than an ally,” pipes up an unknown voice behind you.

You turn around to meet the owner of the voice, and you come face to face with a redhead with the most atrocious bowl cut you had ever seen. Almost everyone seated at your table groans at the unexpected arrival, and you squint at him, trying to figure out if you do know him. 

“Get lost, Forster,” Jean says, irritation clear on his face. 

“I'm just getting to know the new recruit,” he says, sitting in front of you. “So?”

“Sorry, what?” you say, hanging onto the last name Jean uttered. 

As far as you know, there is only one character with that last name; Floch Forster. And you are no fan of his. Worse, he was one of the only people you were glad to see gone. Now, though, that he was just another teenager, and a traumatized one at that, you feel a little guilty for smiling at the wake of his death. 

But let it be known that Floch Forster was one annoying little prick. 

“Your allies?” he repeats. “They locked you in a room?”

“Where are you going with this?” you ask.

Floch shrugs, clearly ignoring the glares he gets from certain people at the table. “Just wondering about your role in all of this. If you are as important as they say.”

“Can you leave?” Eren asks, although it's not really a question. “She’s–”

“Yeah, yeah, the reason you remembered Marley’s ship came yesterday and whatnot,” Floch interrupts. “So? Do you have the answers to all of our problems, new girl?”

You twirl your spoon in your hand, swirling the porridge while you’re at it. You would love to snap back at Floch with an equally snippy comment, but the truth is that you don’t have the answers to all their problems. If they were calculus problems you would have some of the formulas required to solve it, but the results are still an unknown variable to you. 

“I don’t know what my place in all of this is yet,” you say, moving your gaze upwards to look at Floch dead in the eye. “But I am being honest when I say I want to help. Even if you choose not to believe me.”

“You’re right,” he says, notably not even taking your words into consideration. “I don’t. You’re seen as the enemy here, new girl. I suggest you get with the program.”

You sigh as Floch gets up and walks away, presumably to wherever he’s assigned to in the morning. “Well, that went well.”

“He’s been an ass since Shiganshina,” Connie says. 

“Oh, he was an ass way before that,” Eren pipes in. “He just changed targets from Armin to Y/n today.”

Armin gives you an apologetic smile at the mention of his name, but you wave him off, not wanting to imply that Floch’s behavior was somehow his fault. 

“It's fine,” you repeat for what is like the third time in these last two days. “I get it.”

“Do you really?” Jean asks, with strikingly less antagonism than Floch. If asked, you would say that his tone carries more curiosity than hostility. 

“I know things, remember?” you say, strangely confident. “That’s not something everyone would be comfortable with. And I can deduce that that guy’s personality is not one of understanding.”

“You can say that again,” Sasha says. “By the way, are you going to finish that?”

Sasha points at your half finished porridge, forgotten in the midst of Floch’s arrival. To be honest, you aren’t very hungry anymore, but you make an effort to finish the meal, not wanting to go hungry in the middle of the day. You mouth a sorry towards her, and finish your breakfast. 

After leaving the canteen, you part ways with the others, finding yourself once again alone with Mikasa. You walk with her towards your tent, and you debate on bringing up what happened last night. 

“Hey, uh, Mikasa?” you start. “I’m very sorry about what happened last night.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” she says in that unwavering voice of hers. “We all get nightmares from time to time.”

“Oh,” you say, taken aback. “Still, though. Sorry.”

Mikasa nods, and while others would take offense at her cold gesture, you instead see the almost imperceptible friendly tone. If she really did hate you, or at the very least didn’t care in the slightest, she wouldn’t have woken up Eren to go after you. 

You smile, entering the tent you share with the girl. The blanket you vaguely remember tripping over is still on the floor, so you pick it up and fold it over your cot. 

“We are leaving for Mitras in about an hour,” Mikasa says behind you. “I left some clothes for you to change into there.”

Sure enough, there was a small bundle of garments at the foot of your cot, which you had somehow overlooked when tidying up. 

“Thank you,” you say. “Is there anything else I need to bring?”

“No,” Mikasa says. Then she turns to you, pausing her packing. “Do you know how to ride a horse?”

You are only half surprised at the question that seemingly came out of nowhere. “I just know the basics. I've never actually ridden a horse before.”

Writing and reading the Eldian alphabet, self defense, gun safety, lies by omission, horse riding. Those are all things you had to master before Zeke officially agreed to let you go to the island, citing them as indispensable things every young lady should know. Hell, he even threw in some etiquette lessons for if and when you met with the queen. 

Mikasa nods, turning back to her belongings. “You’ll be riding in the cart then. Even so, it was improbable for you to get your own horse in the first place, since you aren’t part of the regiment.”

“Is that a thing?” you ask. “Like, you get into the military so you get your own horse?”

“You could say that.”

“Sick.”

She frowns, pausing again. “No, we aren’t sick. Are you? Do you need me to show you the infirmary?”

You feel heat rush to the tips of your ears and you splutter, head reeling from her unexpected answer. “No! No, no, uh– it's just an expression. It means it's cool, you know?”

“I didn’t,” she says, schooling her expression. “But I know now. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“I’m all good,” you quickly amend before correcting yourself. “I mean, not all good, cause I get headaches from time to time, but like, good enough to be… yeah. I’m good.” You cut yourself off when you realize you are ranting, but add a smile at the end to seal the deal. 

“Oh,” Mikasa says. “I get headaches too. There are some teas I’ve found that help.”

“Yeah, thank you,” you say, not wanting to shut down her way of helping you, even if you know that her headaches aren’t something that can be dealt with in the physical world. “They did?”

“Here,” she says, handing you a few packets of tea leaves. “I leave that brewing for five minutes and the headaches subside. You could also chew on them if there is no time to boil water.”

You nod, taking the crinkly packets in your hands. The leaves move downwards when you turn them around, staying within the confinements of its bundled pouch. “Is each packet a portion?”

“Depends on how you like your tea,” Mikasa confirms, zipping up her things. “Yes, if you like it strong. Otherwise, no.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks again.”

Mikasa leaves the tent, and stands outside for a moment, giving you some privacy to change your clothes. The dark colored bottoms pair well with a sort of cream top, flowy enough so that the texture doesn’t bother you, given it is rougher than what you are accustomed to. When you are done, you follow behind her with your gathered things, ducking under the flap of the tent as you exit. 

“All done,” you say.

She simply nods, going back to her usual silent self as she directs you to a far corner of the stables, where everyone who would be going to Mitras stood. Some were getting the horses ready amongst the smell of hay and animals, others were double checking items in carts, one less full than the others. 

Armin spots you before the others and he walks towards you with a smile. You can see the other members of his squad in the background, each doing their own tasks in preparation for the road, already accompanied by their horses. You are even tempted to make a Jean-horse joke, but you contain yourself in time, knowing the boy would not appreciate it. 

 “Hi!” Armin says, with that cadence of his. “Are you ready for the road?”

“I guess so,” you say. “Uh, should I tell the Volunteers I’m leaving or–” 

“They’ve been notified you will be unavailable,” cuts a no nonsense voice behind Armin. Levi flanks the boy, stopping right in front of your little trio. “Ackerman,” he continues, “go help Jaeger with the boxes. His efficiency leaves much to be desired.”

Mikasa nods and walks towards Eren, who stands next to a big pile of boxes. You hear him groan when Mikasa starts helping him, but quickly silences himself at her glare. 

“Anyways,” Armin starts. “I’ll be going with you on the cart, so feel free to ask anything!”

“Don’t try anything,” Levi says.

“Yeah, thanks Armin,” you say, a bit hesitant, before nodding at the captain, so that he knows that his message is clear. 

Someone in the background shouts something, spurring everyone else to their own stations. Armin taps you in the arm when you get distracted, and guides you to the wooden open wagon, where you take a seat in one of the two benches that line the sides. Armin starts chattering about something, and you nod and smile when it is appropriate to do so. 

After a while, the wagon lurches forward as the horses begin walking, and you start on your journey to Mitral, capital city of Wall Sina.

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[sir-fenris]

It is time :D, oh how I love to yap about chapters.

Lot's of feelings, emotions, feelings, emotions-

-

He had hoped for something that might give his life a perfect symmetry. He wanted any sense of justice to fall back on, though he knew well enough not to truly expect it.

Yeah, well... you searched for justice a bit too late, mate. Delta is already gone. Your guilt is not going to vanish by projecting Delta's impression onto Johanna. Justice and atonement aren't gonna fall from the sky.

But I like where this is going, so keep on :)

He did not dare reach for them here in the dead of space. He’d be no better off once he was out of the chains. Paris knew, with total certainty, that he would not beat her in a fight. He didn’t even think he could do it healthy anymore, some new flinch mechanism that made him so tired of hitting and of being hit. He certainly could not do it in the thralls of withdrawal, not with the cracked rib and the hole through his hand. No opportunity presented itself. He was scared to.

Honestly... fair. Very much fair. Being scared to try in a situation like is is honestly fair.

It embarrassed him just how badly he missed Delta.

Aw... 🥺. How can Paris inspire so much hate and pity in the same measure?

Like. Congrats. You miss the captive you abused, beat up and used every single day for no reason. You only miss him when he's dead and you're sad. Congrats, asshole.

But also... Fuck. How sad it is that one of the most honest, 'friendly' relation he had, was with that same captive. How sad that this captive had more sympathy for him than most people in his life. How sad that while he's being taken to his death, one of the only people he misses is Delta.

I have conflicting emotions with Paris' sentence. It's kinda adorably pitiful, bit sad, and makes me exasperated and angry at him.

All the same, her fingers had been lined with white gems that morning. They were impossible not to notice as he’d brought her hand up to his lips. He’d have done anything for her then. The memories bled out into the edges of his dreams.

Awww. Paris view of Lorelai also inspire many feelings on me, but at least this one just makes me thing Paris is being adorably pitiful. Lorelaaaai, come back to us :'( Paris is so much better with you around... and I wanna know more about you. Our duo is separated :(

Johanna dreamed of something cold and breathing beneath the soft wet earth. She had the nightmare often. Big walls and little hands. A playful pulsing in each of them, turned violent and mean over time.

She dreamt of a small box. She dreamed of a pulsing that grew into a frantic pounding — and a loving flesh that always come backs. It came back her no matter how many times they tried to kill her.

Johanna dreamt of a hole dug deep into the earth. She’s had the same nightmare since she was twelve — and though it gets better, it never really goes away.

.........Was she fucking buried alive? Am I tripping? I read this 3 times. Was she buried alive as a kid???

Honestly, kinda confused with the rest of the words, but now I'm really curious.

"A loving flesh that always comes back", wtf? Johanna?

“Did you know Martino?” he asked.

...wait. wait. Wait. WAIT. HOW DID I FUCKING MISSED THIS? Is Johanna from Beldam Institute????? Wtf? How did I not noticed that before?

You freaking liar, you said St. Holly's Prep! :0

Oh my fucking God, I'm gonna re-read every single chapter in all 3 series after this. I need to remember every detail.

Immediately, he knew it was a mistake. He had about three seconds to flinch before she’d crossed the interior to him and hit him as hard as she possibly could. The intention had clearly been to knock him unconscious, but he’d recoiled fast enough that she mostly struck the side of his jaw. He gasped, sure for a second it’d been broken. There was no time to recover in between the blows. He only shielded his skull as Johanna slammed the cleat into his side, over and over again, breathing heavy. She tore his arms away, gripping the collar’s chain just to slam his head back into the wall, pinning him there.

OH MY GOD SHE DID. SHE DID. SHE FUCKING DID.

Martino knew Johanna. Oh god. Johanna knew Martino. GOD. My mind.

And honestly? If I was in Johanna's place and someone just said his name, I would flip in anger too. Very reasonable anger. I would ban the name "Martino" from my life too. Bitter fucking asshole, that old man. Can't imagine hiw many bad memories she has of him, but definitely want to read every single one :3. And it must be a strong link to the Institute too. Like. How the fuck did Paris know the name of a doctor there, yk? It must have been a shock. A bad one.

But ouch for Paris. Actually winced a bit for him.

“Are you mad at me?” Paris asked. He was stupid and chastened, both knees drawn up to his chest.

... Gosh, I agree with Delta. He can be very pathetic, though I don't like using that word because it feels too mean. So pitiful. He's pitiful.

Really? You're projecting THAT hard, buddy? Why does it matter if she's mad at you, come on, is now the time to worry about that?

“Did you know him? Delta. One Zero Seven.” Paris asked quietly.

...

...Oh. Oh.

If Martino didn't make me flip enough...

I love how Paris starts with "him" before clarifying who. Because the "him" was clear for him.

And I do not believe her at all. Wasn't Delta like... the kid used to threaten other kids and all? One of the ones that lasted? Huh. She might be telling the truth, but I don't believe her.

And one thing. I still remember that when she said her name to Paris, she said it like it was meant to mean something. Idk if I'm forgetting something or if that still has no explanation. But honestly Johanna always confused me a bit. I think I really do need to re-read Crash out once again. Keep it fresh.

And uhhh... just a question. Was her hair ever green?

“What was it like?” he asked. There will be no other opportunities to ask, no other ways to know. He wondered if anyone else who went to that school was even alive anymore. Delta wasn’t. Was Johanna alive, really? 

He looked at her and he could not tell. 

Yeah, well, you could have asked Delta before, asshole. But keep on. Ask more. We want to know too :D

Is Johanna alive? Honestly can't tell either. She confuses me a lot, and after that burying alive thing I'm really not sure.

Except that all the previous times, he did not have a knife wound piercing straight through the flesh of his hand. A white bandage had been bound tight around it ever since he’d been rescued. It still held. She’d seen it, of course. She had to have known. She didn’t care. 

They must not have either.

You met Martino, Paris.

They did NOT care.

Paris offered both hands without resistance, surprising himself. Would she have forced him to if he hadn’t? For some reason, he didn’t think so. If he wasn’t playing along, he thought, she might just give up.

........ Hello? Paris, I'm actually concerned about you, my guy, wtf? Your behavior was ALWAYS concerning, but right now I actually want you to have a recovery arc, because wtf. You need help.

And I don't mean it in a mean way, Paris lately is actually being so pitiful that is hard to not want him to have a hug and rest and a full meal.

I read Destroyer and Rubies and hate him so much (with exceptions, sometimes he was.... half decent). Then I read Rubies and he's pathetically pitiful and sad and- 😀 hello?

(Tbf, he already was before, but... yk what I mean)

He still tried to be steady as the belt came down against his hands again. Again. Again. He resisted the automatic curling of his fingers in an effort to protect himself. It was really nothing. He’d had so much worse. He didn’t know why he was crying so badly. 

Again. Again. He lost track, letting his vision blur just the same as the count. All the nerves in his hand were beaten almost numb, stinging. He couldn’t keep the tremor out of them. 

Johanna grumbled in frustration, pulling the belt back to her side. She was fumbling with the end of it.

...Hm. Why do I feel like she kept hitting because he was crying? He asked how things were in the Institute, and as far as Delta told us repeatedly, the Institute punished them for crying and all.

Idk. I felt like thay was why she was frustrated, might be wrong.

“You don’t fucking ask when it’s over.” She barked.

Yeah, Paris, don't you remember how Delta acted 🙄. Just kidding. Actually felt a bit bad for Paris. Fuck him for making me want to give him a hug.

“You don’t understand!” She yelled. It was infantile. And it was wrong. He did.

Then again, he doubted she was even talking to him.

Neither of you are actually speaking to one another, let's be honest. Traumatized duo using one another for trauma-guided behavior. Just great.

He tucked himself further into the far wall, unable to stop crying or to even be silent about it. She did not speak to him again for the rest of the night.

...*sigh*.

Alright, Paris. You earned a hug. Come here 🫂.

Amazing chapter, as always :D <3, thanks for writing this story, eager for the next one.

And indeed thanks @floral-comet-whump for heping making Beldam Johanna canon, cause- WOW. That make me stare at the screen for minutes. I did NOT see that coming.

Now I gotta re-read everything, because my mind is.......... Wow. This chapter did flips with my head.

(Forgive any typos, I think I've been writing this for over an hour 😀)

-

Crash Out - Joey

(Content: past abuse, whumper turned whumpee, beating, implied child abuse, claustrophobia mention, addiction mention, retraumatization, crying, guilt, self harm?, blood, brief weight talk)

Still shaking, still sick, Paris stared up blankly at the ceiling again, for want of anything better to do. The manacles chafed at his bare wrists, leaving a thick band of raw skin beneath. He’d gotten used to it.

“Did you go to a school when you were little?” He asked Johanna without looking at her.

Without looking back from the control panel, she answered: “I’m not that fucking stupid, am I?”

He shook his head — and the movement of the collar caused the chain to click against the tile.

“No. I mean, like, a special one. For psychics.” He explained vaguely. 

“I went to St.Holly’s Prep.” She answered curtly.

“Oh.” He deflated. 

He had hoped for something that might give his life a perfect symmetry. He wanted any sense of justice to fall back on, though he knew well enough not to truly expect it. His hand traced the collar again, taking slow and steady breaths. He breathed easier when he was flat on his back. Any sudden motion made him feel like he might faint, so he didn’t move at all. The lock picks were burning a hole in his pocket.

She’d missed them, somehow. She hadn’t been very deliberate in the pat down — and at this point, he was all angles. His own hipbone had been as hard and as pointed as the metal. 

He did not dare reach for them here in the dead of space. He’d be no better off once he was out of the chains. Paris knew, with total certainty, that he would not beat her in a fight. He didn’t even think he could do it healthy anymore, some new flinch mechanism that made him so tired of hitting and of being hit. He certainly could not do it in the thralls of withdrawal, not with the cracked rib and the hole through his hand. No opportunity presented itself. He was scared to.

The stygian depths appear every time he closed his eyes, dark blue, teeming. He was scared. Some ancient dread was settling onto him, sharp-toothed and feral. He missed Delta. 

It embarrassed him just how badly he missed Delta.

But when he dreamed, mercifully, it was of Lorelai. It was a frozen morning and the last night’s rain had crystallized against the pale bluegrass. Her hair was undone, hanging in limp curls against the fabric of her sweater. It was the last morning before the break. He’d given her clovers and coffee and jasmine perfume. He’d have given her anything, but he knew the wealth humiliated her. It was an affront for either of them to even wear the uniform.

All the same, her fingers had been lined with white gems that morning. They were impossible not to notice as he’d brought her hand up to his lips. He’d have done anything for her then. The memories bled out into the edges of his dreams.

His heart was all the way empty when he awoke. Lorelai was safer without him than she’d ever be with. It was cold comfort. He’d left her alone and limp in the dirt.

There was no day or night to follow, but the ship’s lights had dimmed. Paris thought it was another hallucination, another dream he couldn’t shake — but the soft sound of crying permeated and echoed throughout the ship. His eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness. 

She was whimpering in her sleep.

~

Johanna dreamed of something cold and breathing beneath the soft wet earth. She had the nightmare often. Big walls and little hands. A playful pulsing in each of them, turned violent and mean over time. She smiled because she could, because they always liked her. She smiled too wide and laughed too hard, some screw knocked loose, faulty wiring from having been hit in the head one too many times. A nervous laugh. Wide, pleading eyes.

She dreamt of a small box. She dreamed of a pulsing that grew into a frantic pounding — and a loving flesh that always come backs. It came back her no matter how many times they tried to kill her.

Johanna dreamt of a hole dug deep into the earth. She’s had the same nightmare since she was twelve — and though it gets better, it never really goes away. She woke up with her eyes still blotted with tears and for a minute she had forgotten where she was. 

From across the room, the captive prince stared at her unblinking, and she knew he had heard everything.

~

Several hours later, when they were both wide awake, Paris tried again.

“Did you know Martino?” he asked.

Immediately, he knew it was a mistake. He had about three seconds to flinch before she’d crossed the interior to him and hit him as hard as she possibly could. The intention had clearly been to knock him unconscious, but he’d recoiled fast enough that she mostly struck the side of his jaw. He gasped, sure for a second it’d been broken. There was no time to recover in between the blows. He only shielded his skull as Johanna slammed the cleat into his side, over and over again, breathing heavy. She tore his arms away, gripping the collar’s chain just to slam his head back into the wall, pinning him there.

But Johanna looked so lost. All her anger was thick with confusion. Her eyes searched him, up and down, as if something in his body might tell her.

“How-“ she asked desperately. “Who-“

Paris shivered, retreating, hiding his head again. It hurt. His ribs were so tender he could’ve cried. She released the chain around his neck, staggering a few steps back.

“Don’t say his name again,” she warned.

Paris nodded.

~

“Are you mad at me?” Paris asked. He was stupid and chastened, both knees drawn up to his chest.

Johanna sighed, sitting up against the starboard wall of the ship. She tossed a tennis ball idly, only occasionally glancing at the autopilot to see they were still on course. She did not dignify him with a response. 

“Did you know him? Delta. One Zero Seven.” Paris asked quietly.

It felt like it’d been ages since he’d said his name aloud. The sound of it hovered in the air, seemed to echo in a way the other words had not. He still remembered the numerals that followed, though by the time he first learned them, they’d lost all their usefulness. But to her, those numbers must have meant something. It’d be the only way to distinguish them.

“As if I’d remember any of them.” Johanna rolled her eyes.

Paris quieted, tucking his face back down into his arms. He only peeked up at her as she stood up, moving to check up on the air filter. 

“Do you hate me?” he asked.

He was surprised when she didn’t laugh. She only sighed again, eyes flitted up to the ceiling as if she was considering it.

“I didn’t before. I think I’m starting to.” She decided.

“Is that why?” He looped one finger in the collar, tugging it.

“Nope.”

In return, she tapped one finger to his nose, booping it gently. He still flinched.

“That’s just business.”

~

It ate at him. He turned restlessly within the chains. There was nothing to do and only her for company. She was taking him to be killed, to hurt the whole time he died, to be mutilated and changed. All his future seemed an endless void. All he could focus on was the past.

“What was it like?” he asked. There will be no other opportunities to ask, no other ways to know. He wondered if anyone else who went to that school was even alive anymore. Delta wasn’t. Was Johanna alive, really? 

He looked at her and he could not tell. 

She stood up from the console, visibly irritated at the fact he was still taking. Or maybe she just didn’t like his choice in conversation topic. Either way, he’d pissed her off.

“You want to know what it was like?” She asked incredulously.

He sat up and nodded his head. For a second, she just looked tired. She undid the belt from around her waist.

“Hands out. Now.”

It wasn’t anything he hadn’t done before. He’d gotten his knuckles rapped millions of times, had the cane brought down against each part of his body. None of it ever helped. By the time he graduated, he knew it was more about anger than it ever was about correction. This was no different.

Except that all the previous times, he did not have a knife wound piercing straight through the flesh of his hand. A white bandage had been bound tight around it ever since he’d been rescued. It still held. She’d seen it, of course. She had to have known. She didn’t care. 

They must not have either.

Paris offered both hands without resistance, surprising himself. Would she have forced him to if he hadn’t? For some reason, he didn’t think so. If he wasn’t playing along, he thought, she might just give up.

He held both palms facing upward. It was what he was used to, what he assumed she wanted, and he was willing to turn them if it wasn’t.

The belt was folded over. He kept still.

It was worse than he thought it’d be. He gasped in shock and pain at the sting. He’d been comparing it to the wrong injuries, expecting the wrong kind of pain. The belt hurt his right hand about as badly as when it’d first been punctured, about as bad as an arrow through his fucking ribcage. His eyes watered immediately.

He still tried to be steady as the belt came down against his hands again. Again. Again. He resisted the automatic curling of his fingers in an effort to protect himself. It was really nothing. He’d had so much worse. He didn’t know why he was crying so badly. 

The belt swung again. He only pulled his hand back just to quickly wipe at his eyes. She got mad.

“Paris,” she hissed, exasperated, and he couldn’t remember her ever using his name before this. “I can make this a lot worse for you and you know it.”

“Sorry,” he muttered as he offered the hand back.

Again. Again. He lost track, letting his vision blur just the same as the count. All the nerves in his hand were beaten almost numb, stinging. He couldn’t keep the tremor out of them. 

Johanna grumbled in frustration, pulling the belt back to her side. She was fumbling with the end of it.

“…Are we done?” he asked weakly. 

The belt buckle hit him square in the face, drawing a pained gasp from him. He reeled to the side, barely catching himself. Blood dripped readily from the gash in his cheek. In shock, he moved two finger up to touch it. Wet. Warm. 

“You don’t fucking ask when it’s over.” She barked.

He kept his eyes trained on the ground, half-curled away from her. The impact had whipped his head to the side and he did not correct it. 

He heard her readjusting the belt. For a second, he really did think she was finished. He let himself be fooled twice.

The buckle struck him again in the shoulder. It produced much less of a reaction than the strike to the face did, but he still cried. It was worse when he couldn’t see it, but he knew better than to try and turn around. He twitched at each new impact.

“You don’t understand!” She yelled. It was infantile. And it was wrong. He did.

Then again, he doubted she was even talking to him.

The metal snapped at the bare skin of his arm, once again at his back. He shifted one shoulder up to shield his still-bleeding face and endured the hit for it. It was only then she seemed to tire. It didn’t matter. He was sobbing. Though he tried to do it quietly, there was so little he could focus on besides his own misery. The effort was futile. He hardly noticed whether she was there or not, whether the beating had even stopped.

He tucked himself further into the far wall, unable to stop crying or to even be silent about it. She did not speak to him again for the rest of the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~

thank you to @floral-comet-whump for getting me to canonize Johanna being from Beldam!!! that was always supposed to be the implication w her character but i wasnt sure about making it explicit until they had the idea of her being an experiment that beldam tried to kill and ended up BURYING ALIVE. that was too tasty to leave as subtext >:)

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @whump-queen

[vampmilf]

hold on im still too mad at this one fucking guest to take a nap i need to be a hater for a minute

[icefire149]

.

[puzzlekinq]

cant sleep because im seething with anger

[chazz-is-a-zelda-fan]

can’t post this on insta considering a good chunk of my irls follow me there and they wouldn’t get this but i’ve been doing a lot better this week about keeping up with myself, i think

[stereax]

woohoo spiraling out of control right now (what else is new really I've been fucked up and spiraling for weeks now) and trying to figure out reasons not to delete my tumblr and discord and myself along the way

but you know. talking about myself on my blog automatically means I'm attention seeking and fishing for pity right? should just shut up and stick to the news eh, it's all I'm good for :D

anyway if you need me I'll be in the corner reliving the past, coming to terms with reality, and trying to convince myself I'm not the problem despite every indication to the contrary ✌︎︎

[daydreamerdrew]

Contact Comics (1944) #2