#( i keep forgetting to use these tags lmfao )

[xmoonlitxdreamx]

Buncha doodles i did during this meeting i should've been paying attention to LOL

[rasazys-ramblings]

Ough Poly Fantasista SQUAD is so silly I need more...

[cryoculus]

— TRACK 02: ALL YOURS ⟢

the last thing you expect for mydei to do is ask you to help write a song. it could have been out of pity, or a means to distract, but little do you know, those fragmented lyrics will pull you so much closer into each others' orbit.

★ featuring; mydei x f!reader

★ word count; 7.4k words

★ tags; rock band au, found family, hostile acquaintances to friends to lovers, grief/mourning, angst, slow burn, eventual smut

★ notes; i'm cross-posting chapters gradually so i don't end up clogging the tags with my updates LOL 😭 also, i bulldozed through the 3.3 trailblazer quest and was royally pissed off by those 10-second cutscenes lmfao!!!! but i liked the story anyway so here's chapter 2~

★ header art cr; sarhiyu on x & ig

TRACKLIST ✧ READ ON AO3

@TheFlamechasers [📸 Photo Post] “First live charity set with our newest member, #DIANA. Let’s hear it for the cause and the chaos. 🔥” → 🧡 132,940 likes | 💬 View all 9,021 comments

@stagebattles [🎥 Clip: Diana’s solo, crowd screaming in the background] “One show in and she’s already melting faces. Flamechasers just hit reset.” → 🔁 18.2k shares | 💬 “did NOT expect that tone shift. she’s got teeth.”

@lionmouth17 [Tweet] “did she really play Nightingale Static like THAT?? this is why we stan musicians who feel the music.” → 9.2k likes | 2.4k reposts | #Flamechasers #DIANA

@heph_saves_hearts [Fan edit clip of old Hephaestion solos vs. Diana’s live set] 🎧 “i miss him.” 💬 Comments are disabled.

@flamechasers_confessions Anonymous post “I saw Diana once at a show before she joined the band. She was front row, crying during ‘Firestarter.’ I swear it was her.” → 614 likes | 109 comments | 🧊 tagged: “unconfirmed,” “fan theory”

@ cipher [Instagram Story] 🎤🎸 “Our newbie killed it! Whole band was lit tonight. 🔥 #Flamechasers”

@GarmentmakerCH [Photo Post] Image: Diana, still in stagewear, clutching a bouquet Caption: “Operational success.” → 🧡 49.1k likes | 💬 “why do you talk like a cryptid and also make me cry”

Life hasn’t slowed down. If anything, it’s moving faster than ever.

Hyacine keeps your inbox clogged with 4K Ultra HD fancams of every angle of your debut, each one timestamped and over-captioned like she’s running PR. Her support warms your heart, really. But while you do your best to hold on to your tradition of monthly coffee shop catch-ups, even that’s starting to lose its place in your tightly packed schedule. 

Rehearsals blur into fittings, fittings into interviews, interviews into frantic note-taking at midnight when a new riff won’t leave your head.

You should be too busy to feel anything.

And for a while, you are. 

Cipher’s energy barrels through every room, impossible to dodge and secretly comforting. Phainon never forgets your drink order, not even once. Castorice taught you a new tuning last week and gave you a fist bump that landed like quiet approval. Even Anaxa has stopped scowling every time you walk through the door—mostly.

And Mydei… is still Mydei. Distant and watchful, but the silence between you is thinner now. Less like a wall, more like a pause.

It feels like the kind of chaos you used to dream about.

Until it doesn’t.

You only meant to stop by the practice room to pack up your gear, maybe tighten a string or two. Ten minutes. Fifteen, max. Rehearsals finished up late, and you’d rather head back to your apartment before you get caught in the evening rush hour. 

But time slows differently in the quiet.

The rest of the studio is dim, lit only by the soft amber spill from a hallway bulb. Your amp is still warm. The hum of cables left half-wound coils at your feet. Outside, someone laughs, distant and muffled. Inside, it’s just you.

And the space where Erin should be.

Where she would’ve sent a dumb sticker just to make you smile, ask how your songwriting is coming along and offering her own input. She’d probably request a selfie in your stage jacket, too, before cheering you on with You did it. You’re really doing it!

The silence settles too heavily on your shoulders. You sit down, but it doesn’t help.

Your fingers find the pick hanging from your necklace out of habit, but they don’t move. You hold it like a lifeline. Like maybe, if you sit here long enough, your sister will walk through the door. Crack a joke. Roll her eyes. Hug you hard.

But she doesn’t. She never will. 

The ache swells slowly and surely as it drags the air from your chest. Your throat tightens. And then, before you can stop it, the tears come—hot and thick and aching. You don’t sob right away. It’s quieter than that. Breath catching, shoulders curling inward, the sound of something unraveling from the inside out.

You don’t hear the door at first. How the hinges creak softly, and how the air shifts just a bit. You’re too deep in the grief that still curls tightly around your ribs. Your guitar pick is still clenched around your fingers like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to the ground.

Then—

“…Hm? You’re still here.”

For a second, your heart stutters like maybe you imagined it. But you know that voice, even clipped short like that.

Shit. 

You don’t want to look. You really don’t.

But your head turns anyway like it’s not entirely yours.

Mydei’s standing in the doorway, half-shadowed by the hall light behind him. His blonde hair’s still damp from today’s rehearsal—fiery tresses flattened by sweat and motion, and just a little frizzed at the edges. His jacket’s unzipped, slouched carelessly off one shoulder, like he left in a rush and didn’t bother to fix it.

But it’s his face that lands the hardest.

His usual mask of cool, unreadable nonchalance is gone. There’s no aloof arch to his brow, no smug curve to his mouth. Golden eyes catch on yours, and you expect them to flick away like they always do. But strange enough, they stay.

He looks stunned.

As if he wasn’t prepared to see you like this. Red-eyed and trembling and small in a room that was never meant to feel so empty. He says your name—the real one—like it might be enough to ground you or himself. Maybe it’s the only thing he has to offer.

You scrub at your face, clinging to the hope that if you wipe fast enough, you can pull yourself back together before Mydei speaks again.

But you can still feel him looking.

You sit up straighter. You don’t offer an explanation, and you sure as hell don’t ask for comfort. 

“I’m fine,” you say with more bite than intended. You don’t meet his eyes.

He doesn’t call you out on it.

Instead, there’s a beat of silence, then the sound of heavy combat boots shifting against the floor. He glances over his shoulder at one of the cluttered work tables against the far wall—half-covered in scribbled lyrics and old water bottles.

“…Wanna help me write something?” Mydei asks quietly. “Could use another brain for this one. If you’re up for it.”

The question lingers in the air like he’s offering you a cup of tea instead of an outstretched hand. The shift is so gentle that it takes you a moment to register it. You’d braced yourself for indifference. Maybe a clipped nod before he turned and left. 

But this? This quiet pivot, a small gesture toward something normal and shared—it unsettles you in a different way. 

You risk a glance at him. Mydei’s already walking toward the table, grabbing a pen, and dragging over a chair with one foot like he’s not waiting for your answer.

Like he just assumes you’ll come.

And maybe that’s what does it.

You stand slowly, the heaviness in your limbs not quite gone, but a little easier to carry now. The space between you stretches but doesn’t pull apart. You cross it quietly, your steps careful as if the floor might shift underfoot if you make a single misstep.

The pen moves in his hand, tracing idle loops into the margin of the page. Not really in a rush. He allows the moment to breathe.

But the first lines don’t come easy. Mydei starts one, scratches it out, then hesitates. His gaze constantly flickers toward the corner of the page, where a few lines already sit—half-finished, older ink, not his handwriting.

“These lyrics have been sitting like this for a while now,” he says quietly, as if he noticed where you’re looking. “Felt wrong to just leave them this way.”

The strokes are unfamiliar, but the rhythm is there, off-kilter and aching, like someone left mid-thought. You want to ask whose writing it originally was, but you hold your tongue.

Something tells you it’s better not to ask.

He tries again, careful and deliberate with a softer furrow in his brow. The silence doesn't feel as sharp anymore. It rings more warm and worn at the edges, like an old sweatshirt you haven’t had the heart to throw out.

Mydei taps the pen once, twice, then gives you a sidelong glance.

“Is this too vague?” he asks, and nudges the page a little closer in your direction.

You hesitate. The instinct is to deflect—to say it’s fine and stay in your lane—surfaces in your chest. But his tone isn’t guarded. There’s no challenge in it, only a quiet question, maybe even a thread of trust. So, you lean in, eyes scanning the scribbled lines.

“Maybe,” you murmur, voice still hoarse around the edges. “The image is strong, but it feels…detached. Like it’s circling something it doesn’t want to say.”

He hums low in his throat. Then he tries again, crossing out half a line and rewriting it beneath in smaller, tighter script.

“Better?”

You nod. Less hesitant, more curious.

Just like that, it becomes something else, less about grief and the sharp edges still catching in your chest. More about rhythm, phrasing, and two people hunched over a messy page trying to make sense of feelings without naming them outright. You offer a few lines. Mydei adjusts them without comment, or sometimes just nods, tapping his pen as he reads them back. A small, quiet rhythm begins to settle between you—call and response, edit and listen, breathe and try again.

And in the space where your sorrow had curled in tight and silent, something else begins to take its place.

Not peace. Not yet.

But maybe some sort of reprieve.

It’s a windless afternoon. The kind where the sky is washed-out blue, thin clouds stretched like gauze, and the world feels hushed, like it knows not to speak too loudly.

You don’t come here often.

Not exactly out of guilt, or avoidance. The thought of having to tread the winding paths is just difficult on most days. Like turning the knob on a door that’s never stopped creaking, no matter how many times you oil the hinges.

But today, you seem to tolerate the noise a lot more than usual. 

Hyacine walks beside you with her hands tucked deep into her coat sleeves. She doesn’t say much, just matches your pace with the kind of quiet only someone who’s seen you at your worst knows how to keep. You’re grateful for it. Words feel too loud today.

The cemetery gates groan. Grass crunches under your shoes, soft and brittle from the cold. You know exactly where to turn, even if you haven’t been here since the leaves were green.

Erin’s headstone is simple. All that’s there are her name, the dates, and a single line you still can’t read out loud without your throat closing up.

Bright enough for both of us.

The flowers in your hand are plain and store-bought, wrapped in thin paper. You crouch slowly, knees a little stiff as you brush away a few windblown twigs before laying the bouquet down. The pick at your neck presses warm against your skin where it always sits, strung on that old chain. You catch yourself holding it, rubbing over the faded swirl. You don’t even realize you're doing it until Hyacine speaks.

“You doing okay?”

You nod. Or maybe you shake your head. It’s somewhere in between.

“I didn’t think I could do it,” you murmur. “Join the band. Stand on that stage. It felt wrong. Like I was taking something I didn’t earn.”

She doesn’t rush you, shifting closer to let you know she’s there to listen.

“But… The other night, I stayed late at the studio and Mydei showed up. We ended up working on some lyrics together.” You pause. “It didn’t really fix anything, but it kind of made the air feel lighter. I’m not sure how. Or why.”

You glance at the headstone again, heart squeezing as you picture Erin nodding along to what you’re saying. “I think you'd laugh if you saw us. Me acting like I know what I’m doing. Him pretending he doesn’t care. It’s stupid. But it’s something.”

Hyacine smiles gently. “She’d be proud.”

Your throat tightens, but the tears don’t come this time. You simply press your palm flat to the stone for a moment—steadying, not letting go—and then slowly rise. You’ll be back to tell Erin more stories. When you’re ready.

But for now, you turn toward the path again, the pick resting safely over your heart.

The label’s meeting room is too bright.

Fluorescent lights hum softly overhead, sterile and clinical, bouncing light off a polished table that’s longer than most stages you’ve seen. You’re seated near one end, far enough from the center to feel peripheral, but close enough to know you can’t tune out.

Castorice sits to your left, sketching little spirals in the corner of her notepad like she’s done this a thousand times. Phainon’s on your right with his legs crossed at the ankle and a look on his face that says meetings are just another gig with worse acoustics. Cipher’s across from you, half-asleep behind her sunglasses.

Meanwhile, Mydei is situated somewhere farther down, arms folded with that casualness that always seems to come natural to him. You think he’s distracted, half-absorbed in whatever’s glowing on his phone screen until his amber-eyed gaze catches yours. The eye contact startles you, but you hold your ground, giving a small nod in acknowledgement. 

He nods back. 

You’ve never stepped foot in this room before. But after the glowing response to the last show, the label’s CEO, Caenis, called for a mandatory team huddle. Team, of course, being loosely defined because: 1) Anaxa is nowhere in sight, and 2) Aglaea and Tribbios weren’t invited. In fact, they were explicitly told to stay out of it.

Cipher mentioned once that Caenis might have some long-buried beef with the band’s management. At the time, you filed it under company rumors. But now? It’s starting to feel a little too plausible.

Then the door opens.

Caenis enters like she owns the air you all breathe, wrapped in a white suit with gold accents that look less like fashion and more like ceremonial armor.  Her assistant—an automaton named Lygus—trails behind with a tablet and an efficient silence that somehow amplifies hers.

“So,” Caenis begins, noting how the team is lacking one member. “Where’s Anaxagoras?”

Phainon raises his hand lowly. “We haven’t heard from him all morning. He wasn’t answering our calls.”

That earns a pause. “Okay. We’ll proceed anyway. Let’s talk about the Renascentia performance.”

Lygus taps something on his tablet. A screen lights up at the end of the room, projecting a slow loop of stills from the charity show—sweaty hair, bright lights, screaming crowds.

And there you are. Caught mid-riff, stage jacket thrown back, eyes fierce. Diana. 

Caenis doesn’t comment on the image. She gestures toward it with a nod instead.

“The numbers speak for themselves. Donations spiked. Engagement tripled. Public sentiment’s high. Press is calling it a comeback tour waiting to happen.” She glances at Lygus, who pulls up a calendar as well as a projected map that’s already making your head spin with one glance.

Then: “We agree.”

Your stomach flips. You hear a stream of murmurs from your bandmates, but you can’t make out what they’re saying through the roar of your pulse. 

“We’re prepping for a ten-city run by the first quarter of the following year. Local venues first, then we’ll scale up depending on performance metrics.” She turns back toward the table with a sharp grin—like she’s already projected the profit margins and filed them away. “You’ll have support staff. Stylists. Full PR scaffolding. Any questions?”

None of you answer, as if the news is taking its sweet time to settle. 

Unfortunately, Caenis isn’t a fan of idle silence and immediately levels a perfectly manicured finger at you. “Diana, questions?”

You jolt a little at the sound of your name—stage name, technically, but the way Caenis says it leaves no room for distinction. Every gaze at the table shifts your way. You clear your throat, sit a touch straighter.

“None at the moment,” you manage, voice steadier than you feel. “I'm just...looking forward to everything, I guess.”

You risk a glance down the table.

Mydei doesn’t say anything, but his brow lifts. A flicker of amusement, or maybe approval. It’s hard to tell with him.

Caenis seems satisfied. She nods once and moves on. “Good. Phainon, I want you working closely with Lygus on wardrobe scheduling. Cipher, you’re liaising with the media arm on socials. I don’t want another hashtag mishap this time.”

Cipher snorts but doesn’t argue. Phainon salutes, casually earnest.

Her gaze shifts smoothly across the table. “Castorice, you’ll be looped in with the audio techs and logistics—set maintenance, pedal configurations, all of it. I want clean transitions this time. No surprises.”

Castorice blinks once, then gives a polite, “Understood,” like she’d already prepared for this exact assignment.

“And Mydei…” Her voice pauses here, ever so slightly. “You’re still overseeing final track selections. Diana’s assisting, yes?”

You blink.

“She is,” Mydei answers. 

Just two words. Flat and unfussy. But your ears burn anyway.

Caenis’s eyes flick to you. “Then I expect both of you to have the first phase of the setlist locked in by next month. We’re tight on turnarounds. The second phase can wait after you've all discussed the next album with our producers, but do work on it ASAP.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you murmur.

The rest of the meeting devolves into logistics—tour graphics, merchandising approvals, the usual swarm of numbers and timeframes. You try to keep up, taking a few notes out of habit, but your brain’s still hooked on what Mydei just said.

She is.

Like it’s that simple. Like it’s so obvious.

The impulse to hit him flares up, but you tuck it neatly behind your teeth.

The hallway outside the meeting room feels colder somehow, or maybe it’s just the adrenaline crash setting in. Still, you fall into an easy rhythm. Down one elevator. Past some unfamiliar cubicles. Toward the wing of the building that actually feels like it belongs to all of you.

The studio.

Cipher’s the first to punch in the access code. “Bet Aglaea’s fuming,” she mutters, almost cheerfully.

“She was already fuming before we left,” Phainon adds dryly. “Which means we’re walking into something that’s probably evolved.”

The moment you step inside, you catch the sharp sound of Aglaea’s voice—even muffled behind the closed soundproof door to the main room, it cuts through.

“—again! Do they think I’m just here to hold everyone’s coats?!”

Tribbios’s voice follows in gentle, practiced tones. “It’s not personal, Aggy. You know how Caenis is. You know how these meetings go.”

“That’s the problem. They always go like this.”

You exchange a glance with Castorice, who simply nods, then quietly nudge the door open.

Aglaea’s pacing. Blazer off, hair a little more frazzled than usual. She stops mid-step when she sees all of you. Tribbios waves at you with a smile though her eyes are a touch tired. “Hey, good timing. I think I just barely talked her out of emailing Caenis an itemized list of all the things we’re excluded from.”

Phainon sighs. “We’ve got a tour coming,” he announces like he’s reporting the weather. “Ten cities. Local start. No breathing room. Highly hinted that Caenis is expecting a setlist with songs that haven’t even been written yet.”

“She’s already assigned everyone homework,” Cipher adds, dropping into one of the beanbags. “I get to babysit the hashtag situation. Again.”

Tribbios perks up. “Already? That was fast.”

“It’s Caenis,” Mydei says, settling onto the edge of the low couch. “Fast is slow by her standards.”

Aglaea clicks her tongue. “And she didn’t think it was worth telling the management team?” 

“She thinks of you as management-adjacent,” Cipher offers with mock wisdom. “Somewhere between ‘essential personnel’ and ‘miscellaneous staff.’”

Aglaea looks like she might actually throw a clipboard, and you’re not sure whether you should look away or take cover. “That...witch. She can’t keep icing us out of the strategy loop just because I questioned her about rerouting funds during the last tour—”

“Breathe. Please breathe,” Tribbios pleads, placing a calming hand on her arm. 

Castorice, always the mediator, pipes in softly. “You’re not wrong, Aglaea. But we’ve got the details now. Let’s just work with what we have, okay?”

Despite looking like a ticking time bomb personified, she takes a deep breath to loosen the nerves. Once your manager’s got her wits about her, the room hums with overlapping chatter—discussions of setlists, scheduling conflicts, wardrobe speculations, and whether anyone actually knows where half the venues are.

You’re just starting to feel like this might finally settle into something normal when the door opens again.

Anaxa steps in, three hours late, coffee in hand and not a hint of repentance on his face.

“Did I miss roll call?”

Aglaea glares at him like she’s about to combust. “Nice of you to show up.”

He arches a brow before settling on the sofa next to Phainon. “Sorry. Some of us had a rather…demanding night.”

Aglaea doesn’t respond. She just stares at Anaxa like she’s calculating the precise velocity required to launch a pen through his skull. Before you can think about what his words could possibly mean, Tribbios steers everyone back on track.

“Can we move on, please? We've got lots of ground to cover.”

Cipher snickers under her breath but quickly quiets when Castorice elbows her in the ribs. Phainon flips the page in his notebook like it’s just another day in paradise.

“According to the schedule that witch...I mean, Director Caenis handed out,” Aglaea starts, finally back in her element. “We have a week until the first official planning session for the new album. Which means we need everyone clear on deliverables, expectations, and actual attendance.”

That last part hangs in the air like smoke.

Mydei cuts through the silence with a raise of his hand. “I’ve actually started writing something.”

“Since when did you start early?” Cipher asks, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

His gaze shifts briefly before jamming a thumb in your direction. “Since she started helping.”

Every head turns to you.

You manage a thin smile, but your stomach ties itself into knots.

You weren’t expecting him to mention that night—when he’d shown up unannounced, finding you in a moment when grief felt inescapable. When the rest of the band had already gone and it had just been the two of you, creating something quiet and strange and new. You thought it would stay there.

You look down, muttering, “It wasn’t a big deal.” 

But no one really buys that. Especially with how Mydei treated you during the first few weeks since you joined. Not Cipher, who’s already wearing that grin again. Or Aglaea, who’s giving Mydei a slow, narrowed look that could mean a dozen things.

All this time, you thought things would be easier once the ghost of Hephaestion's presence has all but dissipated, but you're not enjoying...whatever this is any better. 

“That's great,” Tribbios replies—either oblivious to the shift in the room or choosing to ignore it. “Let’s flag that for review in the draft session.”

The conversation moves on. Your face still burns.

And the memory refuses to let you go.

r/TheFlamechasers u/bandforbrainz

Diana vs Hephaestion—When Will It End? Her debut was a hit, but I’m seeing so many fans still comparing Diana to Hephaestion. She played her heart out, and it’s clear that she syncs up well with the band. Why can’t y’all just let her be?

⬆️ 635  ⬇️ 45  💬 137 

 

hephforever • 2h WAKE UP! Diana’s not bad, but there’s no replacing Hephaestion. The band isn’t the same without him. Period.

AnalWithAnaxa • 2h Honestly, it’s so weird that people won't let go of him. He's the one who left without a word, why’s the new girl getting all the heat?

bandforbrainz • 2h ^^ so true, user AnalWithAnaxa

justagrrl • 15m sorry, i’m a new fan. but do we really have no clue why heph just packed up and left?

AnalWithAnaxa • 5m all you’ll dig up here are rumors. the most popular being: he and mydei broke up 🤣

myphaestion • 3m Why call it a rumor if it’s true? 

bandforbrainz • 3m @Admin the rabid shippers are here, pls help

myphaestion • 1m KYS 🖕

 

This thread has been locked by the moderators.

You start to suspect that something’s amiss during your first brainstorming session.

The main studio has been converted into songwriting HQ for a better part of the week. Someone brought snacks, someone else forgot cables, and everyone’s half-tuned and vaguely alert, notebooks and stray riffs scattered across the floor. The label’s producers gave you all creative liberty for the next album, and everyone is, miraculously, locked in. 

You’re perched on the sofa, trying to find the words that go with a chord Anaxa dropped earlier, when you hear them.

“…it’s not like he wanted to leave,” Castorice says softly. “He just—he couldn’t stay.”

Cipher hums. “Yeah, but it was Aglaea who—”

Their voices dip lower.

You weren’t trying to eavesdrop, but they’re just behind you, and there’s no mistaking what you hear:

Hephaestion.

The name itself no longer makes your chest tight with an emotion you can’t name. Several months in, and you’ve more or less found your footing as part of The Flamechasers. Caenis wasn’t lying when she said that public reception of you as the new lead guitarist was mostly positive. But hearing his name again, so casually thrown into a conversation, catches you off guard.

It’s the first time you’ve realized that your bandmates have never mentioned him to your face. Not once.

You know it’s not your place to ask. The label made it clear from the start: the matter was buried, swept away as quickly as possible, and that seemed to be the same story for everyone in the band. But from the way Cipher and Castorice spoke, it made you think that they’re in the know.

About what really pushed Hephaestion to leave.

Part of you thinks, if you were the same person you were a year ago, you’d already be down a rabbit hole of conspiracy theories. You would scour old interviews, dive into every scrap of gossip and half-whispered rumor you could find. But now that you’re literally sitting in the same room as the people who once called Hephaestion their brother, you learn that some truths don’t come so easily.

You contemplate about asking. Just a casual curiosity. 

But you never do. 

As the seasons change, the silence around Hephaestion’s name grows deeper. No one speaks of him again, and you’ve mastered the art of pretending you never overheard. You smile for every camera, nail each rehearsal like it’s second nature, and pretend everything is perfectly in place—even when all you want to do is scream.

You think you’re fooling everyone. The band, the fans, the media, everyone who expects nothing less than the polished version of Diana. The confident guitarist who’s got it all together, who fits in seamlessly with The Flamechasers like she’s expected to. 

But one quiet evening, something disrupts the rhythm you’ve so carefully rehearsed.

Mydei finds you again when you least expect him. 

You know he has a habit of staying late at the studio, hovering by the mixers, fine-tuning vocals, obsessing over the way sound meets silence. But the tracklist for the new album was finalized days ago. There’s nothing left to fix. No reason for him to be here this late.

Yet, here he is. 

“You up for a few drinks?” Mydei asks, his voice more casual than you’re used to. “There’s a place nearby. Still open.”

“…Now?”

He shrugs, hands in his pockets, as if he hasn’t just disrupted your entire idea of how tonight would go. “Unless you’ve got a better offer. You don’t strike me as someone with cable TV and a bedtime.”

Hesitation shadows your face. “But why me?”

Mydei glances around the empty studio hallway. “Do you see anyone else here?” Then he turns, keys jingling loosely from his finger. “C’mon. I’ll even drive you back. If anything bad happens, Aglaea will personally make sure I die a slow and painful death.”

You’re not afraid—just mildly weirded out. This isn’t the Mydei you’re used to. Sure, things between you have warmed with time, but he’s never been the type to invite people out on a whim. That’s more Cipher’s territory, or even Castorice on a good day. Mydei is more reserved. More deliberate. Yet, here he is, tossing you an offer like it means nothing.

Except it doesn’t feel like nothing.

It feels like déjà vu.

Like the night he found you unraveling in the studio months ago, when instead of pressing or prying, he’d asked if you wanted to help him write something.

You’d thought it was his way of distracting you.

Now, you can’t help but wonder: is that what this is, too?

You sigh, grabbing your jacket off the back of the chair. “You better not make me pay.”

His mouth twitches, almost a smile. “Fine. Just for tonight though.”

You follow him out into the night, the soft hum of the city settling into your bones like a lullaby you hadn’t realized you missed. A dimly lit bar is tucked between a bookstore and a laundromat, the kind of place you’d never look twice at during the day.

Inside, the lights are low, the music soft, and the bartender doesn’t bother carding you when Mydei raises two fingers in a silent order. You settle into a booth near the back while he disappears to grab your drinks, and for a few moments, you're alone again—with your thoughts, your doubts, your heartbeat loud in your ears.

What is this, really?

When Mydei returns and slides a glass toward you, he doesn’t say anything right away. Just sits across from you like he’s been doing it for years, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“So,” he finally says, raising his glass in a lazy toast. “Here’s to the biggest PR gamble of the year. New album and the tour reveal, both dropping at 7 PM tomorrow. Genius or disaster?”

You snort, clinking your glass to his. “Definitely a disaster.”

He grins, eyes crinkling slightly, and your heart stutters just a bit at the sight of it.

You sip your drink, letting the warmth crawl through your chest. For the first time in a while, you see Mydei, not as the cool, distant frontman, but as someone off-center. A little tired, but a little more human.

And then he says it—casually, but not without weight:

“Remember that song we wrote together a few months back? The one that didn’t make the final cut?”

Your fingers still around your glass.

“Yeah,” you say. “I remember.”

Mydei swirls his drink lazily, gaze fixed on the ice clinking against the glass. “I tried to make it work. We all did. The lyrics were solid—hell, the producers begged me to keep it. But every version we laid down? I don’t know. I just…couldn’t feel it.”

You blink. “You?”

He nods, face unreadable again. “It didn’t groove right. Not with me, anyway. Maybe it was the arrangement. Or maybe it just wasn’t meant for me to sing.” Then, softer, almost like an afterthought: “I’m sorry. I know you put your heart into that one. I meant to bring it up earlier, but couldn’t find the right timing.”

You can tell this wasn’t easy for Mydei to say. He doesn’t apologize often, if at all. You take a sip, the bite of the drink grounding you, so when you answer, your voice is steady.

“Then maybe I’ll cook something up myself.”

That gets his attention. His eyes flick to yours, a hint of surprise breaking through the usual calm.

“I mean, if it’s not working for you, doesn’t mean it can’t work for me.” You lean back, tapping your glass. “The lyrics are already written, so I’ll just tweak the rest. Who knows? Maybe it’ll finally groove with someone.”

A beat passes before Mydei laughs, quiet and genuine. “You’re serious.”

“Dead serious.”

“Then here’s to that.” He lifts his glass again, this time in a real toast. “Make it all yours.”

You will. Even if it’s the last thing you did. 

The rest of the night slips past before you know it. Mydei is surprisingly more amicable when he’s got a few glasses in, but he maintains the distance that’s typically there. Not that you mind.

After an hour of exchanging stories and nursing drinks, Mydei pulls up just outside your apartment. You unbuckle your seatbelt, hand already on the door handle, when he says:

“Wait.”

You pause, turning toward him.

He reaches into the glove compartment and pulls out something folded and worn. The corners are already creased, but most of it remains intact.

When Mydei hands it to you, you recognize it instantly: the original lyric sheet. The one the two of you scribbled on months ago, passing it back and forth between verses. Your handwriting all looped and anxious. His, sharp and decisive. Ink smudges where the ideas came too fast to be neat. Even the few lines that some stranger before him wrote still linger in the corner. 

You hadn’t even realized it still existed.

“I almost threw it out,” he admits. “Didn’t see the point in keeping something we weren’t going to use.”

You look down at it, then back at him.

“But you didn’t,” you say.

He shrugs. “It just felt wrong.”

Your fingers tighten slightly around the paper. It smells faintly of his car—coffee, freshener, something electric. A memory, or maybe even a beginning.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

“Don’t let it collect dust,” Mydei replies, his tousled, golden hair catching in the reflection of his headlights. “Do something with it.”

You nod and slip out of the car as his gaze weighs on your shoulders. Mydei doesn’t linger any longer, and speeds back into the empty streets without another word. Even so, the cold brushes your skin like a reset, and you’ve never been more determined for a do-over.

The first show of the tour is nothing short of a triumph.

Okhema turns out in droves—old fans, new fans, the curious, the skeptics—and they roar. From the first chord to the final chorus, it’s electricity. You’re so in the zone, it barely registers when the spotlight hits your face just right, or when Castorice drags out a solo longer than usual just so you can go feral on the outro. Even Mydei, usually cool and clipped offstage, breaks character to grin between verses.

It’s one of those shows where everything clicks. No missed cues, no out-of-sync harmonies. Just rhythm, sweat, and fire.

And you? You burn the brightest.

Afterward, the crew buzzes with high-fives and hoarse laughter. Tribbios starts talking about press clippings before the amps are even unplugged. Phainon calls the entire night “a cleanse.” Cipher insists on a group selfie and, for once, Anaxa doesn’t protest. Even Aglaea allows herself a single relieved nod before getting on the phone with someone probably much more powerful than anyone in this room.

Someone suggests an after-party. Everyone’s already halfway out the door.

Well, everyone except you.

“Not coming?” Castorice asks, already halfway into her glittery jacket.

You shake your head. “I’ve got something I need to work on.”

There’s a general chorus of lame, and booo, and we’re telling the fans you ditched us to do taxes. You flip them off with a smile, which just makes Cipher blow you a kiss in return. But as the group files out, you catch Mydei watching you, recognition simmering in his eyes at some sort of shared secret.

He doesn’t say anything, but he spares you a barely perceptible nod.

You nod back.

When you get home, your apartment smells faintly of sweat and stale confetti. You kick your shoes off at the door, hang your jacket on the back of the nearest chair, and make a beeline for your bedroom-slash-studio. The walls still hum with adrenaline. Your ears are ringing a little, but your fingers feel ready.

You slide the lyric sheet out of its folder, smoothing out the creases with a gentle hand. Mydei’s voice lingers in your head, that clipped softness: “Do something with it.”

You plug in your audio interface, boot up your laptop, and open a new session.

The first thirty minutes are great. You mess around with tempo changes, layer a synth you think is moody but not too moody, and even hum a few melody lines that feel promising. There’s a spark. It’s there.

But then it slips.

Nothing fits.

Everything you lay down fights with itself—either too loud or too hollow. It’s like trying to rebuild a house with someone else’s blueprints and none of the original bricks. You get what Mydei meant now. There’s something evasive about the song. Something emotional that doesn’t translate on command.

But you’re not giving up.

You loop the chorus section. You tweak the pre-chorus. You try a half-tempo bridge and hate it. You drink three cups of water and one of bad espresso. You mutter, “What are you even supposed to be?” to your screen at least five times, and it still doesn't feel right. 

You try again, but your hand slips off the mouse. The screen blurs a little. For a moment, you consider closing your eyes. Only for a few minutes. 

But when you open them again, you’re slumped against your desk, the lyric sheet crumpled beneath your cheek, faintly damp with drool.

The screen of your laptop glows in front of you, frozen on a blank measure.

You rub your eyes, annoyed. With the arrangement, with the interface, with yourself. The melody slips every time you think you’ve got it. The lyrics feel empty even if they felt alive when you wrote them. You’re chasing ghosts in someone else’s song, and none of them are showing their faces.

You stare at the interface until your eyes sting.

Then you grab your phone.

 

Me: Ci

Me: Please tell me you're up 

Cipher: duh

Cipher: i’m still in full concert eyeliner and fear no sleep

Me: ??? It's 9 AM

Cipher: so what? 

Me: At least wash your makeup off 😭

Cipher: are u rly texting me just to tell me off 

Me: No

Me: I'm working on a project Mydei handed over

Me: He already warned me that it was difficult

Me: And now it’s been kicking my ass for WEEKS

Cipher: ohhh? is this the one that didn't make the new album 

Me: Yeah, I'm starting to suspect the lyrics are cursed or something

Cipher: no, sweetie. mydei was just being an idiot and gave up on it too early

Cipher: getting ultra-stumped just means you're halfway there

Me: Halfway to setting my laptop on fire?

Cipher: 🔥🔥🔥 creative process 🔥🔥🔥

Cipher: want me to swing by tomorrow? bring snacks? my expertise as the band's synthesizer?

Me: Yeah that would be great

Me: But I need sleep, so do you

Cipher: true

Cipher: i was trying to get aglaea drunk but got my ass handed to me

Cipher: my vision's still spinning, kinda

Me: Good night, Ci 

Cipher: gn, newbie 🖤

On the promised day, you and Cipher work until something cracks.

It’s not polished. It’s not clean. But it moves—twitching and alive in a way that’s too raw to be careful with. Cipher high-fives you so hard it stings, then collapses backwards onto your floor, laughing breathlessly.

“Okay,” she groans. “I’m done. I’m fried. I’m leaving before I fall in love with a chorus we’ll regret in the morning.”

You snort. “Coward.”

She flips you off from the floor, then drags herself up, throws her jacket on backwards, and stumbles out of your apartment with little ceremony.

You're left in the glow of it. Still wired, and riding the high of something shaped like success. You bounce the track—just a rough cut for now. No title yet, so you type something dumb just to save it quick.

You mean to drop it in your local drafts, but in your sleep-deprived fog, you drag it into the band’s shared cloud instead. You don’t even notice. You’re already shutting your laptop without closing the audio interface. Still buzzing. Still hearing the bones of what you and Cipher made echoing in your skull.

You fall asleep face-first into a pillow with your hoodie still on.

Mydei’s at the studio on a designated day-off.

Not for the sake of productivity, exactly. He just doesn’t sleep much during tour season, and the first show’s adrenaline has yet to leave his system. 

His body’s still buzzing from the gig, but not in a good way. It feels more like residual static. Too many people, too much light, and not enough room in his head. So he took a long stroll from his place until he ended up here. Only the soft hum of the monitors and the familiar chill of over-air-conditioned space offer him company. 

Mydei boots up the console in the producers’ lounge, lets muscle memory guide him. He doesn’t think about it much. Just dragging folders, opening sessions, looking for last show’s harmony stems that Tribbios insisted were “absolutely perfect, don’t lose them.”

He scrolls.

Pauses.

Then, near the top of the shared cloud, Mydei spots a file he doesn’t recognize.

It could be Cipher’s. The title’s chaotic enough to fit her. But it could also be some half-finished garbage file Anaxa dumped in as a joke. He did once upload a mix that was just thirty seconds of dolphin noises over a kick drum. Maybe it’s corrupted. The name doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.

But the timestamp stops him from dragging it to the trash bin. Just a few hours ago...

He should be organizing. Or doing literally anything else.

However, curiosity wins, and he plays it anyway.

At first, it’s all wrong. The levels are a mess, the bass clipping, one vocal harmony accidentally doubled and panned entirely left for no reason. It sounds like it was exported in a panic and bounced through a trash compactor.

But then—there.

That melody. His melody. Or at least, it used to be.

Now it’s got teeth. Rougher, louder. It doesn’t tiptoe around its own structure anymore, it kicks straight through the drywall and rebuilds itself mid-bar. Someone dragged this once-desolate song somewhere new, bent it at the joints until it stopped pleading and started fighting.

It’s not just rearranged.

It’s claimed.

The old bones are still there, buried under snarling guitar overlays, flickers of digital grit, and a deliberately broken drum loop that shouldn’t work, but somehow does. At the midpoint, there’s a climb—a sudden rise like a held breath—that breaks into a guitar line so fast and furious it leaves him blinking.

And he knows that hand.

Knows the impulse behind it. That frantic precision. That particular way of saying I’m not sorry with every note.

Yours. 

Mydei leans back, a soft, involuntary laugh escaping before he can stop it. He runs the track again. Eyes closed this time.

Because it isn’t his song anymore. It’s all yours now, stubborn and spit-shined and loud in all the ways he never let it be. And he likes it. More than he thought he would. More than he probably should.

The file ends. The room falls quiet.

He doesn’t move, he simply sits there—slack-jawed and blinking like he’s been hit by a hurricane. The glow of the screen still frames the filename in the corner:

workign title.mp3

God, what a disaster.

Wrong format. No stems, no session file. Just a lumpy, flattened brick of noise. He can’t solo the layers or trace the guitar back to its source. Can’t reverse-engineer the chaos.

All he has is the wreckage, and somehow, it’s perfect.

The quality got decompressed. The reverb's unhinged. The bassline tried to kill itself twice.

But it’s you.

Every note is stained with your persistence, your teeth-gritted drive, your weird timing and weirder decisions. The melody clawed its way out of his hands and into yours, and now it sounds like something that actually wants to live.

Mydei catches himself grinning.

Like a damn idiot.

Then he opens a new folder, drags the file in, and labels it:

workign title (DO NOT DELETE).wav

TRACKLIST ✧ READ ON AO3

© cryoculus | kaientai ✧ all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my work on other platforms.

[ambrosialdesire]

OMG i would like to request yandere bertolt x paradis reader.you can pick whatever part of the timeline you want, maybe he managed to survive to take her to marly, or maybe she just tried to escape on marly or paradis, or maybe he just kidnapped her I don't really care

Thank you

desiderate

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS AND BLANK BLOGS DNI

pairing: s4 bertolt x fem!reader word count: 9.5k warnings + tags: general yandere and obsessive themes, unhealthy relationships, some explicit sexual content, s4 bertolt au, implied non-con, violence, kidnapping mention, stalking, forced kissing (kinda dubcon), slight groping, kinda masochistic bertolt, cigarette usage/smoking, blood kink, knife kink, slight voyeurism, male masturbation mention, panty jerking off mention (?), slight body mutilation, scarification implications, all characters are 18+ synopsis: they've brought you here on this foreign land, a land that was once believed to be completely overrun with monsters. you've been living pretty easy with this new life of yours but it's hard to forget about what he's done to your old home. this singular man, capable of complete destruction despite his nervous demeanor. there may be humans here but the true monster still remained, watching your every move until he was ready to strike. a/n: IM NGL IVE BEEN WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO REQUEST BERTOLT LMFAO i made bro a creep cause i feel like between bertie and reiner, bertie definitely has the tendency to be lurking and stalking behind corners and constantly following you and finding to opportunity to snatch your underwear to jerk off into LOL the reference that i used for s4 bertolt is this fanart that was used in a tiktok edit but i have no idea who made the art and it's making me scream bc it's definitely how i imagine what he looks like (but with thicker chin stubble) and i want to give the right creds (if you look up s4 bertolt/bertholdt fanart on google and see a tiktok image of him smoking, that's what i'm talking about but i want to give actual creds to the artist) also mb on the smoking scenes idk how it feels to smoke but i do sorta know the distinct smell of it this is also in no way connected to the cacoëthes series just to let yall know hehe i hope you enjoy this anon! thank sm for your request!! and sorry for the wait LOL note: please keep in mind of the tags above and do not proceed if triggering or uncomfortable, especially if you are a minor!! do not read my or any other writers' dark content if you are underaged. this is a fictional work and does not reflect irl morals, do not believe this is how a real romance works or functions.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

"Call off your damn hound Reiner, I'm getting sick of his shit."

Pushing past the blond as you entered his home, you made your way to his dining table. You huffed as you sat down, leaning back against the chair as your boot-covered legs kicked up on the wooden table. Reiner rolled his eyes, pushing them back down to the ground with a heavy thud. He crossed his arms, leaning on the wall adjacent from where you sat.

"A hello first would suffice. What's Bertolt getting himself into again?"

"My business!" Exasperated, you threw your hands over your face. "He keeps fucking following me and it's starting to freak me out. You guys know I'm not suspicious anymore, there's no way for me to be able to contact Paradis Island at all."

Saying your old home's name had started to feel foreign on your tongue unfortunately. It's been over four years since you've been whisked away by these two assholes and living here has been nothing but a thorn on your side. You worked under the Warrior Unit, mostly a simple soldier for both Bertolt and Reiner to boss around for basic things. It's nothing different from your time as a scout but it's frustrating working for them instead of with them.

You don't know why they took you away with them instead of breaking out their other accomplice, Annie, but after a handful of screaming, punching, kicking, and biting from you, they managed to drag you off to the boat. You stayed there for an estimated week or so with random strangers coming and going, poking and prodding at you as if you were one of Hange's experiments on Eren and randomly caught Titans.

The two of them finally came back one random night unconscious, battered and beaten to the point where their Titan healing powers couldn't even help them fast enough. You needed them alive — how else were you going to manage escaping this unknown place of theirs — so you helped tend to their wounds, staying at their sides until they were finally awake.

Once they were conscious enough, you punched Reiner square on the nose, spinning around to smash your knuckles right into Bertolt's cheek. Your hand was throbbing in pain but the burning fury you felt was stronger. By the time they woke up, the boat already was leaving the docks, and now you were most likely already miles away from home.

"You fucking assholes."

Blood was dripping down his nose, while a cut just barely formed on the bruised skin of the other. It was in vain however. Steam was steadily coming out of the two of them, meaning that the healing was back in working condition.

"FUCK! I didn't even say anything yet!" Reiner scowled as he placed his hands around his nose, snapping it back in place with a nauseating crack.

Bertolt laid there quietly however, lanky fingers brushing against the welt on his face but he was unable to meet your stare. Tears started streaming down your face, your body crumpling to the floor. You were completely hurt, you trusted these two like they were family, especially Bertolt. Was he really who you thought he was? How could they do this to you? To everyone back in Paradis?

"Why? Why me?"

The two of them fell even more silent, Reiner looking up at the ceiling while Bertolt closed his eyes shut as if he was the one that was currently going through it.

"Well say something goddamnit! Why am I here?" You were beyond angry, voice crackling from how loud you were screaming at them. "Tell me!"

Bertolt finally opened his eyes, pale green staring into yours. You couldn't see him. There was only the Colossal Titan looking down at you as if you were nothing but an insignificant speck on the wall. He opened his mouth, uttering remorselessly one phrase that made you even more resentful of their entire beings.

"I'm sorry."

Now you were here after long months of being processed and interviewed over and over by many Marleyan higher-ups, eventually and finally gaining their trust. You knew they still didn't like you but who really gives a shit, they left you alive and that's all you could be grateful for.

Since you directly worked underneath the two Titan shifters, they were able to get you housing and some basic supplies for you to be able to function properly in their society, as well as a good amount of pocket money to buy whatever you needed. You didn't go out of the house for a month though, still horribly and rightfully angry at them. You were also afraid of the idea that you'd get mobbed immediately once you stepped out and killed on sight by the locals.

Bertolt was the one that finally knocked on your door, tired and baggy eyes focused on the peephole. Part of you wanted to keep the door closed and ignore his presence, but he might report you or something stupidly petty. When you opened it up, the faint waft of bitter tobacco invaded your senses, nose wrinkling at the unfamiliar smell.

As you looked up at him, he felt and looked even more like a stranger than a past friend. It's only been a month but it looked like he had gotten broader at the shoulders and taller. He was wearing a beige uniform, a white undershirt and black tie peeking out of the chest of the long, belted trench coat. His black hair was partially pushed back with gel, slightly being more grown out from the last time you saw him. The way he held himself now in Marley was completely different from Paradis, an eerie calmness surrounding his person. He used to hunch into himself when he was a trainee and a soldier, but now his back was rigid and straight, arms hidden neatly behind his back. The posture reminded you of the utmost dedicated soldiers in the Scout Regiment.

"You haven't been going to work." He softly spoke, his head slightly tilting to the side.

"So?"

"Failure to comply means termination. Termination means you'll get kicked out of Marley. Getting kicked out of Marley means death." Alright, straight to the point. Even the way he was speaking sounded different, as if he had suddenly gained a newfound confidence that was only present here in his homeland.

"You guys really thought I was able to function properly in a new continent where everything is different in a few months? Not to mention, I'm still pissed off at the two of you but fine. I'll come in tomorrow. Goodbye." You proceeded to close the door on him but he stopped it with his boot. Groaning under your breath, you tried pushing at the door so he could back off, but it was to no avail.

His hand grabbed the side of the door and heaved it open with little struggle, letting himself in as you toppled back into the ground from the force.

"You haven't been going out at all. When's the last time you bought groceries?" You flinched, avoiding his judging gaze. How did he know?

"Last month." You muttered as you got up from the ground, brushing yourself off.

Bertolt sighed, glancing off to the side. "Okay. I'll wait here for 15 minutes. Go get dressed and get your money, I'll help you navigate the markets."

You didn't want to but food was definitely running low, and you don't know how long the canned meat in your pantry was going to last in your anger-riddled protest. You made your way upstairs, rummaging through the closet and grabbing the cleanest clothes you were able to find and put on within the time limit he gave. Making your way back down, you found him in the exact same spot, his eyes glancing around the living room.

"Alright. Let's go and we're going to make it quick. I don't think I can stomach standing next to you for this long." You bitterly grumbled, moodily pulling the door open. Bertolt followed after, closing the door for you and taking the lead. What sucked even more was how quickly you had to dash after him, his steps being too large for you to have a steady pace next to him. Maybe him being a near giant compared to a normal person — you noticed as the two of you walked through crowds of people — was thanks to the Titan DNA.

Each passerby gave you a look as you walked on through but never spared a second glance, which was good. You knew that you were an unfamiliar being, a foreigner that was never supposed to be here in the first place. The farmer's market was still open, vegetables and fruits neatly lined up in each stall. He did most of the talking, being able to haggle easier due to his status and the blaring armband that wrapped around his upper arm. You didn't like having to be publicly labeled, it felt like you were merely a product rather than a person.

You were focusing on a stall with jars of honey and jams when some person suddenly shoved you aside with their shoulder, body suddenly losing its balance due to the amount of groceries you were holding on one arm. You prepared for the impact of the cobbled ground but never felt it, instead feeling a firm hand snug in-between your curve of your side and another on your shoulder.

"Careful now." You opened your eyes, meeting his in shock once he steadied you back on your feet. Bertolt's face soon turned to a bright red, his hands quickly leaving you, and his gaze glancing away. Perhaps there really is still some semblance of the man you knew in your homeland.

"Th-thanks..." Adjusting the bag stiffly back up your arms, you proceeded forwards without him, leaving him behind at the stall. It became a usual thing eventually, he'd come over every two weeks to make sure you were fine and the two of you would go out buying your necessities for an hour or two. It didn't erase the fact that you still hated them, but at least he was helping you get comfortable in this strange new world.

You finally started going to work as promised, wearing an awkward and stuffy white uniform that made even the tangling straps of the cadet uniform pale in comparison. According to the paper that came with the uniform, you were to report to Reiner and Bertolt in one of the headquarters' rooms. However, the details were so vague that you were completely lost in the beginning, roaming the hallways without a clue where you were heading.

"Soldier. Face me."

You stiffened, turning around and straightening up. The tall man was vaguely familiar, a full blond beard lining his face and round spectacles hiding his eyes. His right hand raised up as if he was saying hello and you quickly returned the gesture, somewhat remembering that it was their version of a salute.

"Name and ranking?"

"Y/N L/N, er... I'm not sure of my ranking sir. I just know I'm assigned to work for the Vice Captain and one of the Warriors?" You shuffled your feet awkwardly and he nodded, gesturing his hand for you to follow him. He started scratching his ear as he walked, as if he was in thought. To you, he really felt familiar but you couldn't quite place where the feeling belonged.

"Ah yes," His eyes glanced at you, the blue color peeking out from behind the glasses. "Now I remember. You're Reiner and Bertolt's human souvenir from the devil island, aren't you?"

Is that what they called you? And how dare he call your home a devil island! A bubble of anger was rising within you, but you didn't want to take it out on the older man that was helping you find your way. He had to be a higher-up based on his demeanor and you'd rather not get in more trouble.

"...Yes sir, I am."

"You were supposed to be here a month ago." You cringed internally but nodded slowly.

"It's my fault sir. I've only been here for a few months and everything is too... new. I hope my absence didn't affect anything." The man simply hummed, stopping at a door with the words 'WARRIORS UNIT' neatly carved into the wood. You pulled the door for him, letting him saunter in before you entered.

"I found your little pet, you two." His hand pressed against the small of your back, pushing you forwards towards a table where the two of them sat. They looked completely exhausted and were partially bandaged up, quietly sparing a glance at you with a short wave.

You settled yourself in-between them, about to thank the man for helping you but he was already stepping away, going outside to light up a cigarette.

"Don't mind Zeke, he's just... eccentric like that. Hope he didn't offend you." Reiner pushed a pile of papers towards you to sort once you turned back to them, saying something about piling them from who sent them; the important files being from the commander and the Marleyan superiors and the unimportant files being from other soldiers. It slowly dawned on you that you became some sort of assistant to them, a glorified secretary for their war schemes.

"It's nothing too difficult, you're lucky to get this kind of work compared to us and the other Eldian soldiers." Bertolt slightly smiled, continuing to read a paper in his hands and you sighed quietly, beginning to sort. Part of you was grateful you didn't have to face war anymore, but the other part didn't want to be treated differently. Maybe the Marleyans thought that you'd defect once you were on the field or kill as many as you can with a weapon in your hands, going out in a blaze of glory. You never held a gun before though and it was most likely that everyone in this military could shoot you down before you could aim it at one person.

An hour or two passed by and you finished up the sorting, neatly tapping them together. It really wasn't a difficult task at all, were they going to make you do something else for today? You quietly waited for any orders, the two focused on their own thing until Reiner suddenly got up.

"I'll go get lunch for us. Y/N, you can relax for now, there's nothing else we need from you today. Good work." He ruffled the top of your head playfully, just like he did before after a training session in the corps. The blond soon left the room, leaving only Bertolt and you alone.

The two of you sat in silence, your hands fiddling with the seams of your uniform. Was sorting the only thing you're going to be doing during your time here? You'd quit within the month if that was the case but if not, maybe in due time you'll save enough money to open up your own shop. You've always wanted to sell clothing back in Paradis, just like your mother and father.

"You look good in the uniform." Bertolt finally mumbled out, the sound of a paper flipping over barely making it audible. You slightly flushed at the comment, diverting your attention to the closest wall in sight.

"Really? I feel like a wet cotton ball, it's so uncomfortable. The scouts uniform is way better." You grumbled, tugging at the cloth around your legs.

He slightly laughed at that, shaking his head. "No way. The scouts uniform was too tight, not to mention the straps were always so difficult to put on."

"Maybe it's cause you're a literal giant compared to everyone there. I just know they had to customize a whole other set for your ass." He snorted and started laughing, dropping the paper in his hand. You couldn't help but let out a few chuckles as well, crossing your arms together. The two of you bantered for a little bit longer and just for a second, it felt like you were right back home in the training corps canteen.

Everything fuzzed out in your hearing and you soon found yourself comparing home to here. The smells were different, not quite fresh as the countryside air and had a more smoky tone with every breath you took. The sights were different, more machinery was seen rather than grassy fields and trees. The people were different, there was no one recognizable to chat with besides your kidnappers. Everything here had entirely evolved and you were being forced to adapt to it. The realization made you feel a drop in your stomach, tears beginning to form in the corners of your eyes.

"Bertolt."

"Hm?"

"I want to go back home." Your voice was meek, heavy droplets falling down and staining the white fabric beneath you. His body stiffened and he got up from his chair, almost slamming it into the table when he pushed it in.

"This is your home." He responded coldly, a singe of irritation trailing off his words as he left the room, slamming the heavy door shut. You started to sob quietly, tightly holding onto the sides of your sleeved arms.

No it wasn't, and Bertolt knew it too.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

Your work schedule was simple: Monday to Wednesday from 9:30 am to 6 pm, you served the Warrior Unit. Every other day, you could do whatever you wanted and that was that. The pay was pretty good for a livable wage, but nothing special. No task you were given from Reiner or Zeke was too difficult either, it was usually just sending out letters to their superiors or sorting anything they wanted you to sort. To be honest, it felt like they were just tolerating you since the Marley government didn't want to deal with you anymore. It sucked but it's better than being belly-up in the ocean.

You haven't tried to make amends with Bertolt after that day because one, it was his fault so why would you apologize anyways and two, he hasn't been around that often in the office space. Reiner explained to you that there will be days, sometimes weeks or months where some or none of them will be here. Apparently when they came back with the failure to retrieve the Founding Titan, the loss of Annie and her Titan, and the inability to capture Eren's special Titan, some nations came together and declared war on Marley.

"Hopefully it won't be so often that we're going to be gone for long. Wouldn't want to have you sit at home and do nothing." Reiner teased with a slight nudge against your arm before downing his glass of liquor.

"I do nothing even when working. Maybe I'll pick up some new hobbies when you guys are gone, like knitting or cross-stitching."

Maybe you can give the creations to your neighbors since you were just doing it for fun. One of them is an expectant mother and since you had moved in, she had been nothing but kind to you. It would be nice to give something to her in return.

"Alright grandma." You elbowed his side hard, rolling your eyes. He grunted and started rubbing the affected area, grumbling under his breath about your temper.

"Where's Bertolt? Aren't you guys inseparable?" He suddenly cleared his throat, adjusting himself in his seat. Back in the training corps and the short time in the Survey Corps, you've rarely seen the two separated. Wherever Reiner went, Bertolt followed suit.

"Probably caught up in something. He'll be here soon, he never cancels without notice." He waved his hand dismissively and you thought none the wiser, tracing your finger around the rim of your glass before taking a swig.

"Already missing him?" You suddenly choked on the liquor, throat burning at the sensation. No way. No way in hell, you'd ever miss him. He could get swallowed up by another Pure Titan and you wouldn't even bat an eye. You'd laugh instead, basking in the blood that would gush out of his torn corpse.

Before you could even say anything back, a soft voice popped into the conversation. "Missing who?"

The two of you turned and there stood Marley's behemoth, still dressed to the nines in his uniform. Reiner greeted him happily, ignoring the question completely, turning towards the bartender and ordering another scotch for his friend. Bertolt settled right next to you, taking the glass in his hand and drinking up the entire thing in one go, some liquid spilling out of the corner of his lips. He quickly wiped it up with his thumb, his tongue peeking out and licking the remnants away. His cold green eyes glanced down at you suddenly, catching you staring at him.

A flush of heat went through your skin, quickly looking away to stare into your partially-full glass. The drinks kept on coming, the haze of alcohol filling everyone's systems. You were the least intoxicated, slowly taking in the new attitudes and information from your drunk companions. It wasn't much but they became more chatty, opening up about their lives before Paradis.

"I joined because of my mother." Reiner moved his glass towards the bartender, his head leaned up against his arm as he watched the brown liquid fill up his cup.

"Oh yeah?" He nodded, taking a sip from the newly refilled glass before speaking once more.

"She had high hopes that our family would've been whole again. Me, her, and my father. He's, uh—" He cleared his throat, turning his attention towards you. A faint dust of pink rested on his cheeks, a cheeky smile growing. "He's a Marley-blooded man, so y'know... I'm not really supposed to..."

"Exist." You muttered as you finished his sentence and he let out a soft laugh, nodding lightly before downing his drink again.

"Harsh, but more or less, you could say that's it. Compared to me though," The black-haired man closed his eyes, huffing softly. "Bertolt here is more tragic."

Curious but puzzled, you turned your attention towards him, his hand running through his gelled locks and he mumbled something under his breath before taking a shot. You did wonder a bit about how this man turned out to be the worst attacker on Paradis Island's humanity, it felt sickening thinking about a sweet little boy being trained into a horrid monster.

"You know I hate talking about it Reiner." The blond snorted, turning on his chair and leaning back on the bar's counter.

"C'mon. Let her in on your situation, after all—" He stood up, walking over to him and placing his hand over his shoulder, leaning in close to his ear that you almost barely caught what he said.

"You owe her that much."

Reiner made his way to the bathroom, leaving the two of you alone once more together. The thought of trying to decipher what he meant flew past your inebriated mind and so you sat in silence, instead thinking that you might as well make your way home now. It was probably already past midnight, and you were sure that you were waking up late with a massive headache. As you finalized your decision, turning in your stool and towards the door without a goodbye, the thump of glass hitting wood snapped you out of it.

"I was raised only by my dad." Bertolt started and you slowly turned back towards the counter, your full attention on him.

"Don't know what happened to my mom, he never really told me and I was never curious enough to ask. It was just the two of us for as long as I knew but even as a kid that could barely read, I knew that he wasn't... okay." His fists clenched together and you could hear the cracks of his joints from how tightly he was gripping.

"When you're born an Eldian and live in the farthest parts of the internment camps, medicine is hard to get by and treatment is even more difficult to obtain. The minute I became eligible to join, I took the opportunity." You don't know what compelled you in the moment, but you placed a hand on one of his fists. He started relaxing once he realized that you were touching him, still stiff as he reminisced further.

"Did they give him the meds?" Bertolt nodded, taking in a shallow breath.

"A few days right after I inherited the Colossal, they started giving him everything they promised and he was getting better day by day. It wasn't until I left for our mission in Paradis that his condition evolved into something worse." You swallowed nervously, slipping your fingers into his and holding his massive hand gently. His head turned towards you, his eyes soft as he looked into your gaze.

You've never seen or heard him be so vulnerable before, guilt forming in the pit of your stomach. For him, he was fighting a one-sided war against your home, all because he wanted to take care of his dad. Yet in return, he caused the displacement of so many from their families, ripping them apart with a few kicks into the walls.

"When Zeke came on Paradis and we finally met up, I asked him about my dad and he told me that despite all the medicine and treatment that he's been getting, he wasn't getting any better. I had to see him again, no matter if I had failed the original mission or not. I couldn't die on that island without being able to see him again and I just barely made it. Sometimes the way we escaped made me wonder how I even made it out of there. It was only for a few months that I got to spend with him once we came back, but he passed away in his sleep last month."

His hand tightened around yours, though not enough to break it. No wonder he started to look more disheveled and exhausted recently, his whole reason for getting where he is was now gone. You pitied him but that didn't excuse the murders of thousands he did in your homeland. At the same time, it didn't mean that you should bring that major fact up, not when he was currently grieving.

"I'm sorry Bertolt."

"It's alright, you don't have to pity me. I have more to be sorry about towards you and the others. I'll never be able to properly make it up, nothing I'll ever do will be enough to wash away the blood on my hands."

The two of you sat there in silence, a warm hand around one cold hand. You really should leave now, before Reiner comes back and you'll be stuck drinking even more than you wanted to. You attempted to finally slide off the wooden seat, but he clenched your hand gently and tugged you towards him instead. Your eyes fluttered in both confusion and tiredness as you stood in front of his sitting frame. Blinking once, his face appeared right in front of yours. His free hand slid behind and rested against the nape of your neck, feeling thin but calloused fingertips tenderly brush against the skin as he pulled you even closer.

Okay... this was getting a little too weird for your liking. Beginning to open your mouth to verbalize your annoyance and trying to move back, he then took the opportunity to press his lips against yours.

You could taste the alcohol that the three of you had been previously been consuming intertwine with the tobacco's bitterness of the cigarettes he used, a vagueness of something sweet brushing up against your tongue as he tried to coax you into returning the action. His stubble was rough against your skin the more he moved, digging deeper as he pressed further into your mouth.

You had half the mind to bite that damn muscle of his, but the warmth of both the alcohol and him was stupefying, hypnotizing. It felt like you were melting against him, a warmth pooling in your stomach and in-between your thighs. Slowly, you convinced yourself to return the kiss, gravitating into his embrace. It was stupid of you to do considering you hate the guy but hey, who doesn't do stupid shit every now and then? Fuck, you even started wrapping your arms around his neck and shoulders.

There wasn't much people in the bar anyways, either too drunk off their minds to care or simply ignoring the disgusting couple intertwining themselves in the public space. The bartender was off chatting with another patron, most likely used to the sight of a couple making their passion uncomfortably known to others. It's the Colossal Titan user, who on Marley dared tried to say something about it?

The hand that once was holding yours, grabbed at the crook of your back to draw you even more impossibly near him, then sliding down towards the curve of your ass. To your utmost surprise, he clutched and squeezed at the flesh firmly, feeling you up with this sudden confidence that you would never thought of him having before.

"Annie."

Sobriety hit you like a cold bucket of water splashing onto you once you heard her name slip through his swollen lips, taking no time to immediately shove the man right off of you. He just told you his story, that his dad had just died last month, and here he was, kissing and groping you and then suddenly calling out Annie's name. You were breathing hard, eyes wide as saucers as you stared down at him in shock.

"What the fuck? What the fuck!?"

Bertolt's hand reached out to you, as if he was trying to make you lift him back up. You've never felt so nauseated to hear those very words come out of his lips as a valid apology, like it was no big deal.

"I love you."

You ran.

You ran out of the bar, into the blackened sea of night, never once looking back. If you did, you were afraid of what you might see in his eyes or if he was chasing after you. With tears lingering in the corners of your eyes, one single thought remained.

Out of everyone in the squadron, why did it have to be him?

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

For a month and a half the day after what happened, you never saw Bertolt in the office or around the internment zone.

It was probably the first time him and Reiner were ever separated for this long, the blond telling you that it was his own decision to be sent off into the battlefield alone. You wondered if he told him what he did to you after he came back from the bathroom, or excused why he was on the floor and why you were gone. Reiner never said anything about the incident, so it soon faded in the back of your mind into obscurity.

He wasn't your first kiss anyways, some now-dead nobody trainee back in the day was, and the two of you were drunk, stupid shit happens. Part of you also somewhat knew about Bertolt's fondness for the Female Titan user, originally not knowing about how close they were previously, but damn it. For a heated moment to be ruined like that left a sour taste in your mouth, and you couldn't help but hate him even more for it.

"He's back."

"Who?" Reiner's fist came down on the top of your head playfully, catching your attention from the paperwork.

"Y'know who. Better talk to him now before he passes out from exhaustion from the looks of it. Also, because I know you miss him~" He teased and you swatted his fist off of you, watching him as he walked off towards the main room laughing, leaving you with a pit in your stomach. You really didn't want to talk to him, even if a month had passed on by, but legally, he was your superior. Professionalism before personal feelings unfortunately.

You finally got up, walking slowly to the destination before taking in a deep breath and entering the medical unit. Bertolt was near an open window, a lit cigarette lazily nestled in-between his fingers as he stared out of it. He was the only person there and you swore that every time you saw him, he started to look more unrecognizable from his previous cadet days. His hair wasn't slicked back anymore, falling at the front of his eyes; in fact, you thought it might've grown out a little more from the last time you saw him. The Titan marks were still prominent on his face, like he had just transformed not long ago.

Wiping your clammy hands on your puffy uniform, you approached him, pulling up a chair nearby the bed and sitting down stiffly.

"Welcome back sir."

His head turned towards you and you swore that you felt the room grow colder as he gazed into you through the black strands of his messy hair. Maybe you were the only one that noticed, but his eyes were dead, hollow but still held some sharpness in those pale green irises. This was no longer the Bertolt you knew, this was a numbed man that got mentally thrown and torn apart in the arms of the constant war, the constant transforming, and the constant murder of many.

"Hit me."

"E-excuse me?" He must’ve gotten faster because you didn't realize how quickly he grabbed you until he pushed the palm against his healing skin. It was burning to the touch, as if you were right next to a blazing bonfire. Instinctively, you started to try and wiggle out of his grip but he held steady.

"Hit. Me." Bertolt's grip grew stronger around your wrist, fear creeping in through every cell in your body as you watched the surrounding skin pale from how hard he was holding. "That's an order."

You swallowed but nodded quickly in agreement, just so he can let go of you before any bones shatter. He immediately released you straight away, the action as fast as he previously took ahold of you and took a hit of the nearly burnt out stick. You had to hype yourself up for it, thinking back on every rotten memory you’ve had with him, balling up your fist and striking him as hard as possible where he originally placed your hand. The force made his head swing the other way, the cigarette butt dropping on the ground as your knuckles throbbed in agony. It was like directly punching a stony wall, not like the previous time you punched him on the boat to Marley.

You let go of the breath you didn’t even know you were holding, straightening back up as you held onto your wounded hand. "And how do you feel, Bertolt?"

Bertolt’s body didn’t move, but his hand began to slowly trailing up to the injury, pressing his fingers against the forming bruise. You flinched as he pushed his hair back to where you could finally see his eyes, exhaling the smoke that he previously took in through his nostrils. He glanced over in your direction and let out a soft chuckle, although you noticed that it didn't quite reach those dull eyes of his. There was one thought that lingered in your mind as you stared back into his gaze, that he must've gone crazy fighting in the frontlines.

"Good hit, make me bleed next time." ...What? "Though, I'm surprised that you decided to visit after... what we did the last time we saw each other."

Recovering quickly from trying to process what he just said at first, you cleared your throat, crossing your arms. "The Vice Captain requested me to visit his right hand man, who am I to refuse his wishes?"

He simply hummed in response, reaching for another cigarette in his pocket and his lighter. Placing the unlit stick at the side of his mouth, his eyes caught yours once more, a slight smirk forming. "When'd you start talking like the soldiers? You forget the years we've spent together already since I've been gone, or did you finally get in trouble for treating us like equals?"

You scoffed, pulling your lips in a thin line. "You're the one that gave me an order earlier, and I've had a recent revelation that I had to start acting like a subordinate rather your friend or buddy or whatever the fuck we are, so yeah, I guess it's the latter."

"Ahh, better watch your language then or I'll have to report you for profanity against a superior." Bertolt was of course joking, the mocking tone intertwining with his words. As you felt your eyebrow twitch in annoyance, the sound of lighter clicked and ignited, your eyes watching him pull the flame near.

"Y'know..." He started as he took in a drag, leaning his head back towards the ceiling and soon exhaling the smoke out slowly. "I've been thinking about you the entire time I was gone."

A heaviness plopped itself back on your shoulders, and you wanted nothing more but to excuse yourself out of his premises. You were about to say something to leave him alone, but he kept on talking, droning on and on about how he was counting down the days when he could finally see your face again. Bertolt mentioned that you were the only reason he kept on fighting, why he kept on killing so his commanders could see that he was doing such a swell job as their loyal Titan holder and let him leave early. What a horrible ideology, most of those people could've been innocents.

"And another thing, I kept thinking back on the kiss we shared that month ago." All the color drained from your face, turning and taking a step back to try and run, but felt his hand grasp onto the fabric right against your back. His voice had the same disdainfulness as before, a demandingness that you didn't even know he had in himself to project.

"Don't leave and turn back around. That is an order."

You grit your teeth, finally turning back around once he let go of your uniform and find him standing, his tall stature hovering over you. Nervousness crawled up your spine, flinching once you felt his cold fingers reach over to caress your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him. His eyes scanned your face, inspecting your features quietly before taking another drag of his cigarette. He then neared your face and press his lips against yours.

Recoiling at the abrupt kiss, you tried to push him away but the grip on your face was painfully tight, almost akin to the hold on your wrist earlier. You could do nothing but endure this assault, a slight whimper slipping out as the soreness of your face grew.

Bertolt's tongue brushed against your lips, trying to coax you into opening them. You might as well obey, just to get this over with and the fact that you were running out of oxygen at an alarming rate. Once you did, he pushed the smoke in your mouth as he deepened the kiss, the burn in your lungs and in your throat getting worse. In a panic, you bit down as hard as possible to free yourself, the taste of iron combining with the bitter nicotine. You quickly doubled over and started coughing, watching in tears as vague smoke came out of your mouth with every heave and breath.

"Ah." You peered up at Bertolt from within your teary vision, the tips of his fingers on his lips and pressing against the wound you inflicted. It was deep from what you're able to see, but already started to heal itself. Yet, that's not what at all made you run out the room in distress, almost vomiting into the bushes once you stepped foot out of the building.

You watched in mortified horror as he smeared the crimson around his lips and chin, a seemingly euphoric and satisfied expression reflecting on those pale green eyes of his. He looked down at your frozen form, crouching down and reaching over to your face with his bloodied fingers. A small whimper slipped out as he smeared the substance on your mouth, a hungry grin forming.

"Isn't this a beautiful sight? My blood on your lips, I wonder if I can make you bleed for me soon." It felt like he wasn't supposed to say it aloud, but maybe he wanted you to hear, to have a taste of what his true self was like. That thought alone made you run out, leaving him on the ground once again.

This time, you had to make sure you'd never see the sick fuck ever again.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

And this brings you back to the beginning, in Reiner's home completely agitated and frightened for your life.

The past few months, Bertolt resumed his normal duties along Reiner and you; although you limited your interactions with one another, you can’t help but notice that he was following you everywhere. Not just at work, but the times where you were on your breaks, going out to eat, shopping for groceries or clothes, even in your own home; you saw him. You barely caught him sometimes, he'd disappear in a blink once you tried to get in a second glance to confirm who you saw.

He lingered behind corners, staring at you with such a frightening glimmer in those dull eyes of his. He was usually expressionless as he stared into your very soul, not a single crooked smile or the usual slight upwards curve of his eyes. Nothing, absolutely nothing. And the strangest part was that he never said a word, just... stared. Sometimes he just stood there right in the public's view, crowds of people passing besides him without a single glance towards the weirdo in their way.

There was nothing you could do about it, he wasn't technically bothering anyone and due to the internment zone being rather small, they already knew that he was associated with you. How unfair it was. You wished you could live like them, ignorant and dismissive of the monster that stood right next to them.

Him being right outside of your window was your final straw, the lamplight just barely highlighting his features as he stood in your backyard. You screamed and backed up into your dining room table once you realized that he was right against your window, pressing his hand against the glass as his breath began to fog it up. His eyes were crazed, the first time you ever saw anything in them after weeks of ignoring him. You flung the drapes over the window — as if it could do anything to protect you — before running upstairs and hiding in your closet for the rest of the night.

If he was able to sneak up on you, to be that close without you noticing… what else has he done?

"He's being a fucking creep, Reiner. If it's not him trying to figure out that I'm some kind of double-crosser, it's him being some kind of perverted stalker." He snorted at your remark and you could tell that he was not entirely convinced. You took in a shaky breath, finally putting down your foot.

"Then I would like to request that I leave the Warriors unit and work somewhere else. I don't care where and if I have to move, all I want is to never see Bertolt ever again." Reiner's expression suddenly hardened and he pushed himself off the wall, leaning on the table opposite of you. You've never seen him quite as serious until now, unease filling your stomach.

"You do realize that we cannot protect you once you leave the unit, right? The only reason you're alive still is because of us, Y/N. Anywhere else in the other units, the generals and commanders will watch you like hawks for any mistake you make, minor or not. They would use any excuse to have your head." His hand rested on your shoulder and squeezed it firmly, checking his surroundings before leaning close into your ear.

"Look. I know about Bertolt's strange behavior, trust me, I've already noticed he's been off ever since he came back from that recent excursion. I don't know if I can convince him to stop doing this to you, but I mean it when I say that you're better off staying in our unit." He then leaned back and lightly smiled for more reassurance; a part of you felt that it was the scout in him that was talking and that made you feel a little better.

"We're all you got in this world and your best chance for living. C'mon, just give him one more shot." This wouldn't be happening in the first place if you left me back in Paradis, you thought bitterly but hesitantly nodded your head.

"Okay, fine. But you better get it in his head that I don’t want him stalking me anymore or I’ll report him to General Magath and leave the unit, no matter what the consequences are." You got up and headed towards the exit, turning your head to see him slowly push in your seat. He noticed that you didn't leave yet and lifted his hand up, almost waving goodbye.

"No promises," Reiner held up his pinky, slightly wiggling it. "But I'll do my best."

You scoffed, but smiled regardless.

"Then whatever happens, it'll be on you."

The next day continued on as usual, something normal for once as both Reiner and Bertolt weren't in today. You thought that they must've gotten deployed to another war since you hadn't seen any of the other Warriors either, but you continued work as usual for your shift. Even if you weren't required to, you might as well lighten the load for you the next time around.

By the time you were done with half of the stack, you finally called it quits, seeing that the sun had began to slowly set behind the towering buildings right outside of the windows. Clocking out, you slung your satchel over your shoulder and pushed past the doors, quietly walking back to your home. Now that you started to think further during your trek, it's strange that you didn't get any notification from Reiner about their sudden leave. He'd always gave you some kind of heads-up even if you didn't ask, either through a note or in person.

Was this something so serious that not even you can know about? That would make more sense, you're technically just an underling to them, you didn't need to know more confidential information from the Marleyans as a Paradisian; not like you wanted it or had any use for it anyways. The orange glow of the sun began to fade, the sky slowly turning darker by the minute as lamplights started to flicker on right on cue.

You were so close to home that you started to pick up the pace, a feeling of anticipation running through you. It's not like you felt scared, no. This was the first time in days that you finally felt like you didn't have to look over your shoulder, the first time in months where you didn't feel like you were being watched.

In a matter of minutes, you finally reached the front door of your home. You rummaged through your bag for the keys, taking your time as you pushed through the unfortunately crowded mess. There was no need to rush anymore, not until they come back, and hopefully Reiner was able to talk Bertolt out of his abhorrent, unprofessional behavior. Letting out a happy hum as you finally found what you were looking for, you pushed in the key and turned it open, only to be greeted with a gut feeling that caused goosebumps to immediately form on your skin.

Something was wrong. Despite everything being in their right and respective places, there was something... off. Standing still at the entrance way, you scanned the environment slowly, a lump forming in your throat as they darted to-and-fro nervously. The windows were locked, you knew they were, and none of the drapes seemed to be moved or altered from their original places. There was only one entrance and to get to the backyard, you would have to take the side fence door at the outside of the resident. You almost were tempted to back out of your own house, the one place where you've considered as the safest haven from the outside. This feeling, it had to just be that you were unused to being finally left alone... right?

You finally took a step inwards, the wood creaking underneath your boot. Mentally, it felt like excruciatingly long hours had just passed by for you to get another step, internally praying that your mind won't play tricks on you from the various sounds that were occurring in the considerably old home. There's nothing or no one here, you're just being a paranoid baby.

Exhaling slowly, you finally shut and locked the front door behind you. Repeating the phrase over and over gave you confidence to continue forwards, determination in your eyes. You'd be damned if Bertolt thinks he could scare you out of your own home, you'd rather go to prison than try to stay at his home for temporary shelter.

You lost your appetite to prepare a simple dinner, now knowing that you'd prefer not to try cooking something when you've just arrived in fear for your life. However, you carefully made your way towards the kitchen, grabbing a knife out of the wooden block. The sound of the metal sliding out of its sheath may have been the loudest thing you've been currently hearing. You gripped onto the handle tightly, turning towards the stairs.

You knew you weren't alone here, the house may settle now and then, but this felt different. This was different. No matter what your brain was telling you, your gut was telling you otherwise.

Crrreeeaaakkkk...

You froze, feeling suddenly out of breath as you stared at the ceiling with wide eyes. The sound came from your room, there was no doubt about it. A memory of Bertolt trying to secretly make breakfast for you flashed into view, the sounds of pans clashing below waking you up. You should've questioned how he gotten in the house in the first place during the earlier stages of this thing of his, but you were far too hungry and tired to even notice until now.

In meticulous steps, you made your way to the staircase, trying to make sure you didn't step on the wrong board and alert the intruder of your presence. Hell, he might've already known since you unlocked the door. The hallway never felt longer than it was before as you approached the room, the moonlight shining down on you and the weapon held in your dominant hand. There was more creaking the more you came towards the door, your heart pounding in your chest in the rhythm of a thousand Abnormals sprinting towards their next delectable meal.

The door was slightly ajar, alarms ringing in your head. You never have left the doors in your room open in your life, especially when sleeping and even when you left the premises. Someone is in there and you know who it is. Taking in a deep breath, you leaned in gradually towards the crack in the door, trying to control the trembling in your hands as you peeked through.

The stench of blood first hit your nose, then the sight within nearly made you scream in horror. Bertolt was in your room, sitting on the middle edge of your bed, all bloodied from head-to-toe what you were able to tell from the street's lamps dully illuminating the surrounding room. Though that was stomach-churning in itself, the action he was performing on your bed made everything even more heinously depraved.

The bastard was fucking his fist with your panties wrapped around his cock, his pelvis erratically jutting into the tight hold he put around it. His lips were slightly parted, almost barely audible groans slipping out with every stroke. Even worse, you could hear just the cusp of your name with it, your own face growing warm.

You had to report this to General Magath, now. Burn your bed and used underwear once you got the chance to second on the list. Reiner failed, maybe even never went up to him, and now you had to take the drastic way out of this. He finally took things way too far; if not your underwear, it might’ve been you.

You took a step backwards, immediately paling as the floorboard behind you squeaked loudly under the weight. The movement from within your room paused abruptly, anxiety and dread crawling up your veins with every passing moment. The sound of the bed springs being relieved of any weight on them immediately alerted you that you needed to start running or hide until he leaves. It was too late, the door opening with a grinding, crackling noise.

"Welcome home, Y/N."

Bertolt lunged at you, instincts kicking in as you swung the knife, aiming for his throat. You knew it wouldn’t kill him, you’ve seen Mikasa do it years ago and he healed without any trace of the injury left, but it would give you enough time to get to Magath’s residence. At least, that’s what you tried to do, but he moved last minute, the blade only digging into the side of his face towards his mouth.

He was stunned by it at first, a nauseating feeling permeating within your stomach as you watched the skin and muscle separate as he opened his mouth, blood streaming down his jawline in thick streams. Then he started chuckling, pressing his hand against the wound roughly and almost pulling it apart. This was no time to stay shocked however. You took this final opportunity to run, carefully trying not to cut yourself as you made your way down the stairs.

"Y/N!!!" Oh god, oh god, oh god. You reached the entrance, turning the lock and pulling it open, the cold air of the night blasting in your face. Freedom was right there in your grasp — just right there — before a thickly drenched hand from behind grabbed ahold of you from the mouth and pulled you back inside.

You couldn’t scream as his bloodied palm held firmly down onto your mouth, tears streaming down your face as he lodged himself right between your legs. He was crazed, his pupils dilated with excitement as he stared down at your quivering form. You could the hardness straining against your uniform pants, a sob stuck in your throat. The inflicted wound on his face was obviously starting to heal, steam coming off of it.

"Good try, too bad you aren’t strong enough to even try to finish the job." He took the knife out of your hold, his blood still staining the edges. Bertolt neared it towards your throat, your body fighting back as it approached closer and closer.

"Hey, you’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep moving like that." He scolded, as if he wasn’t the one with the weapon, the cold blade right against your jugular. You froze on cue, taking in sharp breaths with your nose to try and not to panic even more.

"You weren’t meant to see me uh—" His face flushed pink, scratching his uninjured cheek with his pointer bashfully. This bitch was acting like he didn’t just break in your home, committed a perverse act on your bed, and about cut your throat open. Bertolt slightly adjusted himself, rubbing his still-hard cock against you. "But it was pretty exciting, how long were you watching? Did you get excited?"

You wanted to shake your head, only flinching as you felt him unbuckle the belt, nimble fingers unbuttoning and zipping down your pants. You had no choice but to feel him slip his dirtied hand into your underwear, his fingertips pressing against your hole. A proud smile grew on his face, a vast contrast to your horrified expression as the two of you made the same realization. You’re wet.

Bertolt pulled the knife away from your neck, short relief coming out of you in waves, but he didn’t drop it or throw it aside. No. He used it to tear your uniform shirt open, a muffled yelp escaping you as the cool air made contact with your bare skin.

"We’re going to have some fun together, okay?" You felt like throwing up in his hand, hoping that you’d asphyxiate from it. Your heart stopped as you realized that he was nearing the tip of the blade on your lower stomach, right below your belly button.

"Right after I carve my name into you."

[fuqnia]

SP Main Four + butters !College AU Headcanons

[☆] A/N | hii guys! i recently hit 500 likes on tumblr and i'm like so speechless... i never wouldve thought people would be interested in reading my stupid little writing hehe, so tysm! my long fic, most wanted, is coming to a close soon, and I have been working on another longfic that's a fem!reader insert x main 4 boys in college!

[☆] C/W | slight nsfw in kenny's

[☆] check out my relationship college au headcanons for the boys + butters here! it's sfw and nsfw <3

☆ stan marsh

environmental science major

i think he would have like around a 2.5 - 2.9 gpa

uses a laptop to take notes

surprisingly has decent notes

gets on wordle, geo guesser, quordle, WAFFLE, during lectures if he gets bored

struggles with hangovers, yet still goes to classes sometimes

i don't think he truly notices how much he drinks... it kinda just happens ?

doesn't mind college parties, will go if his friends want to

kyle usually has to carry him back to their shared dorm when he does go tho LOL

volunteers at the town's animal shelter !!

sometimes eric and butters tag along

visits home like once a month, mostly to see his mom and dog

crimson dawn is still a thing, and stan is sooo dedicated

matches band tees with kenny sometimes <3

keeps up with his college football team religiously

way too emotional about college sports

joins some intramural sports tho!

butters and wendy would come to his games and cheer him on

definitely has late night talks with kyle about "deep" stuff... and kyle is like

"dude, shut the fuck up and go to bed," and throws a pillow at him

i think he would start a vinyl collection

also has succulents, but he forgets to water them hehe

doesn't really use social media

so he gets kyle to send him songs from tiktok for his workout routine LMFAO

sucks at cooking

best procrastinator around

his drunken rendition of mr. brightside went viral after kenny secretly posted it online

"IT WAS ONLYYY A KISS, IT WAS ONLY A KISSSSSS"

very political

argues with the tik tok interviewers on campus

gets kenny to help him bleach his hair

eric bullys tf out of him for it

☆ kyle broflovski

political science major and on a premed track

4.0 gpa idc this man is a tryhard and fueled on spite

uses an ipad and apple pencil to take notes, uses goodnotes

definitely color codes his notes

i don't think he would actually ask questions in class

but goes to office hours... and that's how professors know his name

obsessed with email etiquette

will actually facetime sharon to show how messy stan's side of the dorm is

will spray stan with a waterbottle to wake him up

"dude... are you serious right now?" "it's 2pm stan."

has a mini ironboard and iron

wears his ushanka on bad hair days

refuses to join study groups

but is butters study buddy

visits home every 2 weeks

and comes back with a ton of leftovers from his mom's cooking

he also mealpreps

whenever his mom calls him, eric takes kyle's phone and starts talking to sheila himself

in bed by 9pm most days

kenny comes knocking on the doors at 9:01 to bug kyle

definitely a coffee snob, and grinds his own beans

has a small box of keepstakes under his bed

also has a small medkit in his dorm, backpack, and gave one to kenny, eric, and butters

jogs every morning before class

terrible at small talk

prolly makes underclassmen cry

sends venmo requests for every shared expense

participates in model un

falls for ragebait online

also chronically online

waters stan's succulents for him

☆ kenny mccormick

physics major with a minor in women's and gender studies

3.5 gpa

milked the fuck out of his home situation to get a full ride scholarship

uses an old fashion notebook to take notes

sometimes comes to class faded

tries not to make it a habit

also smells like cigarettes, but everyone still wants to sit next to him ?

butters offers him alternatives like gum or lollipops

adrenaline junkie

his favorite class he took is water skiing

but also really likes his minor classes!

volunteers at local events, like community cleanup

thrifted flannels

shares them with stan

the most well known on campus out of the four + butters

loves late night drives

knows all the scenic spots around campus

has a bunch of tattoos littered on his body

kyle definitely mothers him, taking care of his scratch and bruises

horrible sleep schedule thanks to eric screaming in their dorm at 2am

makes quick god-like meals

the underclassmen idolize him for some reason ?

diy king

was hired to be the campus mascot

but was fired for bringing pyrotechnics on the football field

do not ask this man his bodycount

decorated his ottoman, to make it look less suspicious

definitely hides his drugs and alcohol in it

locks out eric from their dorm room and puts a sock on the door handle when he's getting sum

☆ eric cartman

business administration major with a minor in psychology

2.0 gpa

does not rlly give a fuck abt his classes

gets caught for cheating/plagiarism but somehow manages to never get expelled ?!

runs for his class student body president position, but his campaign is just memes

always scheming for free food, all the clubs know him

doesn't have anything school related in his backpack

loud as fuck in his dorm

"Dude. You’re at, like, an 11 right now. I need you at a 3." "Uh, excuse me? I’m multitasking. This is called strategy, Kenneth. I’m practicing for when I go pro, unlike you and your stupid—whatever it is you’re doing—'The Patriarchy 101' or some crap."

unironically loves the dining hall food

networks on linkedin for some reason ?

listed kyle as a reference on linkedin to piss him off

tiktok famous

atrocious dorm decor

has a cardboard cutout of andrew tate that he loves

runs the school barstool instagram account

reddit mod on the school's subreddit

every few weeks, stan convinces him to set a fitness goal

always fails...

has convinced the entire dorm there’s a ghost, and charged people $10 for ghost hunting tours

once organized a charity on campus to help pregnant students, but pocketed all the money

also ropped butters into it somehow

stole one of stan's succulents

believes he's a karaoke god

records the main four + butters at parties

spends at least an hour in the dorm's bathroom, causing kyle to geek tf out

works as a guide tour for the school, so he could spread misinformation to the tour groups

☆ leopold 'butters' stotch

either an education, psychology, or business major... i can't decide

3.8 gpa

active in the student government

sometimes reviews eric's cheating cases... way too lenient

accidentally started a cult on campus

started as a wholesome self help club

his advice was so endearing people started treating him like a guru

kenny thinks this is hilarious... kyle tried to stage an intervention but failed

becomes an RA

takes it way too seriously, best informative bulletin boards and door decorations

gets really sad whenever no one shows up to game night

so the main four and craig's gang show up out of pity

sometimes the girls come too!

did study aboard for a semester

returned with an inflated sense of cultural superiority

eric mocks the fuck out of him for it LOL

says howdy! to everyone every morning

academic overachiever

too polite to call out slackers in group projects so he just does most of the work

studies at the campus library at a specific spot next to a window

chews grape flavored gum while studying

started cleaning up trash at parties

color coded planner with stickers and motivational quotes

best hugs... stan is like the only person who hugs him back

sneaks into the football stadium at night to just stand on the grass

goes out for every holiday

plans secret santa for his dorm, makes cookies for finals, decorates his dorm room

his dorm door is always open!

☆ Group Dyanmics

always does group costumes for halloween

teletubbies one year, fnaf the next

bad movie nights everyweek

annual camping trips

kyle cries about the lack of phone signal

stan always forgets something important, like his tent or sleeping bag

kenny loves telling scary stories, especially to freak out butters

cartman only packs junk food

butters always burns his smores

every year when the snow falls, the go out in the quad to have a snowball fight and random people join in

kenny somehow manages to get the group to join him for his midnight drives

every semester they crash the weekly campus trivia at least once

can you guess who my favorite is tehehe...

[diorsluv]

feather , part 34

“ where i’m at ”

series m. list previous chapter next chapter

( socialmedia!au )

hockeynewschannel

liked by yourusername and 123,659 others

newschannel1 rookie nhl player, luke hughes of the new jersey devils, and longtime suspected girlfriend are seen out at the beach spending time together!

view all comments

username21 no fucking way they got news channels covering this

username78 LMFAOOO

username45 how the hell do you even????

username90 there’s no way they could tell it was them from the BACK

→ username79 prob just couldn’t snap a pic from the front without getting caught

username46 i genuinely think they could give less shits if they’re seen out together

username84 ppl are forgetting they were friends before they started dating 😭

yourusername oh my god i’m famous 😱

→ username42 LMFAOAOAOAO

→ username71 stirring up the drama i see

→ username99 you’re trolling so hard aren’t you

bardown

liked by yourusername, lhughes_06, and 194,901 others

bardown luke hughes or a dupe?

view all comments

username1 BARDOWN??? this has got to be jesse there’s no one else who would cover this

username82 even bardown’s roped into the dryshughes rabbit hole 😭

username72 waiting for the next pod to come out and it’s just then talking about the dryshughes lore for an hour straight

liked by bardown

→ bardown soon!

username24 LMFAO IS THAT THE DRUNK LEAKED PHOTO

username36 i’m sorry they did luke so dirty

→ username34 on par with all the other news reports about him 😔😔

username47 THAT’S MY WIFE she’s so hot

username88 but they’re not even canadian 😭

→ username14 they used to live in toronto idk

username8 next quiz idea: state every event to happen in the dryshughes timeline

liked by bardown

username23 next thing i know i’m prob getting a notif from tsn about this shit

tsn_official

liked by yourusername, lhughes_06, and 200,007 others

tsn_official just spotted luke hughes and his girlfriend getting lovey on the ferris wheel

view all comments

username23 i just manifested this wtf

username41 GOOD FUCKING BYE

username60 they can’t even say mother’s name i see how it is 🙄🙄

username79 wtf!

username15 since when did tsn and bardown cover romantic relationships in the nhl 😭

→ username2 since dryshughes.

username58 they can’t catch a break holy

username97 let’s just leave them alone 💀💀

username42 they didn’t even wait for the actual hard launch to happen 😭😭

username76 THEY’RE CUTE TOGETHER WHO IS SHE

lhughes_06 damn i thought we were being lowkey about it

→ yourusername ‼️‼️

→ username84 i’m so confused what’s going on

yourusername

liked by lhughes_06, _quinnhughes, njdevils, and 320,155 others

yourusername we had it coming boys…

look at this fucking dumbass (i love him) he looks so stupid (he’s so cute) and he’s so cheesy (he legitimately makes me swoon) AND IF ANY OF YOU TRY AND SHIT ON OUR RELATIONSHIP i’ll thank you! (I WILL BEAT YOU UP)

thank you for coming to my ted talk

tagged: lhughes_06

view all comments

lhughes_06 i hate you more (i love you so much) and you’re my least favorite drysdale (you’ll always be my girl)

→ yourusername this is so gross you made me cry fuck you

→ lhughes_06 i think you forgot to add the parentheses

_quinnhughes only took you a decade!

→ yourusername HEY DON’T CALL US OUT

→ lhughes_06 fr that’s so uncoolio

markestapa OH MY GOD I CALLED IT

→ yourusername called what 🤨

→ markestapa mackie’s dumb ass said luke was gonna hard launch first

→ mackie.samo THEY PRACTICALLY POSTED AT THE SAME TIME

→ markestapa BUT SHE POSTED FIRST

→ mackie.samo BY LIKE 10 FUCKING SECONDS

→ markestapa give me my damn money 🙄

maddysamo does this mean samo time gets cut down even more

→ yourusername unfortunately yes…

→ msamoskevich okay then keep breaking my heart 😔

→ mackie.samo stfu samo time is NOT getting cut down

→ lhughes_06 yes tf it will mackie.samo

→ maddysamo YOU ALREADY SPEND ENOUGH TIME WITH HER AS IT IS

njdevils favorite couple by far!

→ lhughes_06 YEAHHH LETS GO

→ yourusername 🤭

colecaufield you chose the worst possible photos of him

→ yourusername i deadass didn’t have any good pics of him

→ colecaufield go on pinterest???

→ yourusername and search up pics of my own boyfriend?? hell no

_alexturcotte ayeeee there we gooo

→ yourusername you were our #1 supporter from the start 🙈

→ trevorzegras THAT IS A FUCKING LIE AND YOU KNOW IT.

adamfantilli oh look he gave you flowers

→ yourusername he gave me flowers 🥰💐

dylanduke25 mini golf

→ yourusername i destroyed him

→ lhughes_06 you didn’t but i love you so i’ll let it slide yourusername

→ dylanduke25 the balls r really small right

→ yourusername yeah…….

→ dylanduke25 maybe that’s why you were so good at it yk, since you got a lot of experience from lukey boy

→ lhughes_06 DUDE STOP

rutgermcgroarty why was bro recording the helicopter

→ lhughes_06 because i wanted to 😔

→ rutgermcgroarty ur such a weirdo

comments on this post have been limited

lhughes_06

liked by yourusername, trevorzegras, edwards.73, and 345,174 others

lhughes_06 just wanted to say i was fucking struggling to keep us a secret and i love you more than the entire universe

tagged: yourusername

view all comments

yourusername WHY’D YOU HAVE TO CHOOSE THE WORST PHOTOS OF MEEE

→ lhughes_06 shush you look beautiful

edwards.73 you were not keeping it a secret bro 💀💀

→ lhughes_06 BECAUSE I WAS STRUGGLING

→ edwards.73 yeah we could tell… 😬

mackie.samo that first pic is photo evidence of you selling on chel

→ lhughes_06 IT WAS LITERALLY YOUR FAULT

→ _quinnhughes i was a witness i can attest to your shit playing

→ lhughes_06 😐

luca.fantilli you let her paint ur nails.

→ lhughes_06 IT’S CLEAR

→ luca.fantilli u were shitting on me for wanting to paint stars on my nails

→ lhughes_06 IT WOULD LOOK BAD ON YOU

→ lhughes_06 AND MINES JUST A TOP COAT

→ luca.fantilli SHUT UP HYPOCRITE

jamie.drysdale yeah yeah you look cute but you better not hurt her or else i will hunt you down and i am a hell of a lot closer to you than i was when i was still with the ducks

→ lhughes_05 yes sir 🫡

→ yourusername the paragraph. the fucking paragraph.

→ jamie.drysdale I’M JUST DEFENDING YOUR HONOR

trevorzegras LETS FUCKING GO???

trevorzegras ROOTING FOR YOU SINCE THE START

→ lhughes_05 we thank you for your service

→ yourusername sure you were z

→ _alexturcotte it was obviously me 🙄

jackhughes i bought you all of those films and they were expensive as hell

→ lhughes_06 so was my tooth when you knocked it out of my mouth when I WAS SIX

→ jackhughes IT WAS GONNA COME OUT ANYWAYS

→ _quinnhughes it was not about to come out 💀

→ yourusername you’re rich stop whining about instax films

njdevils that’s our boy!

liked by lhughes_06

comments on this post have been limited

njdevils

liked by lhughes_06, yourusername, dylanduke25, and 356,924 others

njdevils we support you! (as long as she’s cheering us on when we play the flyers 🤫)

tagged: lhughes_06, yourusername

view all comments

philadelphiaflyers gritty will not be happy to learn that his favorite player’s sister will be cheering for the other team

liked by njdevils

lhughes_06 ❤️

→ yourusername dry ass comment

username3 SCREAMINGGGG

jamie.drysdale hm.

→ lhughes_06 don’t be salty man

→ yourusername frfrrr

username87 MY BABIES

username41 IT FINALLY FUCKING HAPPENEDDDDD

username56 AHHHH

username68 LOOK AT THEM THEY’RE SO CUTE

username25 FUCK YEAH

username76 HARD LAUNCH OF THE CENTURY

yourusername i’ll make a deal 🫣

→ njdevils let’s hear it

→ yourusername whoever’s playing at home is who i’ll cheer for

→ lhughes_06 no

→ jamie.drysdale no

→ njdevils no

→ philadelphiaflyers no

username44 YESSSS

next chapter notes ) HARD LAUNCH OF THE CENTURY?? YES OR YES????? and also i’m so pumped from the stars’ 9-2 thursday win and we finally got our hard launchhhhh

tags: @aliaology @hockeyboysarehot @absolutelyhugh3s @jackquinnswife @freds-slut @love4ldr @blueeyedbesson @43hughes @v1olentdelights @dancerbailey3 @random-human02 @ho3forfakeguys@loveforaugust@cstads-blog@h0e4fictionalme-n

[mercars-musings]

20 questions for fanfiction writers

Hewwo!!! TYSM to the lovely @sunny374940 & @andthekitchensinkao3 for tagging me in this!!! ;0; I appreciate youse so much ! <3 Answers under the cut ! <3

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

Only 8 so far! My disabilities can stop me from writing as much as I'd like to sadly but I hope to get at least 1 out a month from here on out!

2) What's your total AO3 word count?

Apparently: 20,635 ! I didn't actually expect it to be that much lmfao

3) What are your top five fics by kudos?

Would You Fall In Love With Me Again? - Emrook Angst / Comfort: After trying to claw his way out of the fade for the past 7 years, Rook is pulled back into Thedas only to be confronted by the fact that time passes differently outside of the Fade. {Ft. Fade Prison Trauma Nightmares!}

2. Market Memories - Emrook Angst / Comfort: Rook takes Emmrich to a small market nearby where Rook grew up, however shit hits the fan when they run into someone from Rooks past. that he'd rather forget.

3. Trust & Fish Sticks - Fluffy Sad That heavily features Emrook: This is a short sad & fluffy piece I wrote on Rook Mercar taming & adopting the angry dog that keeps barking outside of the dog crates in Dock Town.

4. Gone Too Soon - A short sad hurt/comfort piece I wrote on Rook Grieving the loss of a friend {Post Cage for Gods - Davrin}. Funny how my fave pieces are all the most popular haha, I need to trust my gut more it seems!

4) What fandoms do you write for?

I only write for Dragon Age atm! I am heavily influenced by Epic the Musical so who knows maybe I'll do some Epic Fanfic in the future! Or something else, I DAV tore me out of a like several year writers block so I'm just taking what comes inspo wise atm!

5) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Omg ofc! The comments always give me a huge inspirational boost and is honestly a large reason I've managed to write more after the first piece! Checking my comments & kudos is one of my favourite things to do honestly - it's the least I can do to respond once I see them!

6) What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Okay so, most of my endings are all fluffy lmfao. I START with angst and then let the boys comfort eachother by the end! Though I guess the one that would class is "Gone Too Soon" since it leaves both Emmrich and Rook still heavily grieving Davrin. This fic was so hard to write it made me so sad :<

7) What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

"Trust & Fish Sticks" for sure!!! Manfred and Doggo are besties, Doggo gets to be part of a loving family, the events of Veilguard are over & Rook & Emmrich have a very fun night ahead of them! ;)

8) Do you get hate on fics?

Thankfully no & I hope I never do! I still can't fathom that some people are that cruel honestly :<

9) Do you write smut?

I *used to* back when I was writing fic years ago, but that was a different fandom & my comfort with sex has evolved over the years as I've realised I'm like a sex neutral GrayAce lmfao. Shit doesn't cross my mind 90% of the time XD

10) Do you write crossovers?

I *used to* not since I returned to fanfic though!

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't *think* so? I certain hope not!

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not to my knowledge!

13) Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Nah, maybe at some point in the future though! Guess it depends on how my latest fanfic journey goes in future! :3

14) What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Oh shit why would you ask me thiiiiiis!!! ;0; /lh I think ATM it's definitely Emrook BUT I've had so many in the past honestly!

15) What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I WILL finish it I promise, I'm desperate too ;0; Anyway it's a fic that goes through My Rook Mercars 7 years stuck in the fade. There will be 7 chapters - 5 with each one being an exploration of 1 of the 5 Stages of Grief & how it relates to Az's time in The Prison. Then the last 2 chapters exploring some of the after effects that I haven't covered in prev fics yet! :3

16) What are your writing strengths?

I hear I'm great at making people suffer asdfgjkl; On a serious note I think I'm really good at editing? Honestly proof reading & editing is when I get most of my better work in fics done imo! My works usually AWFUL till then haha

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

Actually getting shit STARTED!!! I struggle to actually put fingies to keyboard and start the process more often than not. Once I've started though I can lose myself in the flow and shit becomes a lot easier! Oh and punctuation for sure. I like weird sentence structure I'm sure I'd be stripped of my Degree if any of my old writing proffs saw me now lmfao

18) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

I have never tried it, though I can barely manage writing in my own language in general SO I think I'll stick to that lmfao.

19) First fandom you wrote for?

Tim Burtons Alice & Wonderland! I'll actually go further: My next were Charlie McDonald x Matt Smith's Dr Who; BBC's Sherlock & then CW's Supernatural asdfghjkl. Yes I was a SuperWhoLockian & YouTuber Obsessed Child, try not to bully me too hard lmfao

20) Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

It's definitely "Would You Fall In Love With Me Again?" I went into some sort of wild trance and it suddenly existed. I barely had to edit it for once & it is 2 of my current special interests {DAV & Epic The Musical} so likeeeee lmfao

Here's some no pressure taggies! @hyperions-light ; @ofcrowsanddragons ; @taashyvashedan ; @thedissonantverses ; @caughtnyact ; @fangbangerghoul ; @redheadsramblings ; @basedonconjecture

[foreststranger]

DAN FENG - Tethering The Sky and Reaching For Heaven

ꜱᴛᴀʀʀɪɴɢ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ 『honkai: star rail』dan feng/imbibitor lunae/yinyue jun (ugh can he stop having so many names??? it makes tagging a complete nightmare) x gn!reader

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ parting ways with silly dragon guy before he reincarnates and dies idk idgaf abt his backstory 👍👍👍

𑁍 ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1.0k

ɴᴏᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ surprise!!!! yet another short fanfic abt a long haired man! anyways happy early 1.3! i wish everyone a very e6 lynx and good luck on whoever you’re pulling for. ALSO HOW TF DO YOU DO CHINESE DIMINUTIVES/HONOURIFICS IN X READER FICS??? 阿Y/N???? OR MAYBE IN PINYIN??? a’y/n or ah’y/n??? OR WOULD IT BE LIKE 阿[the first character of your name] LMFAO

“What do you mean ‘you’re leaving?’ Where are you going?” You ask, taking a step closer to him, trying in vain to figure him out.

“We won’t see each other again. I’ve… done something horrible.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“…It’s not our main concern as of now. I’m sure my punishment will come for me soon. I don’t know how much time I have left with you.”

“Okay, what’s going on? I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’ll understand soon. I’d just like to spend one final moment with you.” Dan Feng grabs ahold of your hands, his grip almost painful as his fingers lock with yours.

“Are you… You don’t love me anymore?” A thousand thoughts rush through your head, yet none of them makes sense. “Do you want to see other people?”

“No, no, no. Of course not. That’s not what I meant. I meant that…” He pauses, concentrating. “We don’t have much time left.”

“But what does that-“

“Forget it. Would you just follow me, 心肝? Humour me. Please.” Your eyebrows furrow at the odd hypocorism. Before you can answer him, Dan Feng is leading you towards the dock. Bright yellow ginkgo leaves drift down from the sky, signalling a change in the year as they fall. There’s a scent in the early autumn air, and it reeks of… gloom; fraught with melancholy and a lingering anxiety that seems to cling to you. It whispers into your ear sweet serenades, singing a cacophony of incoming danger. The signal of change grows to a warning.

“Why are we heading towards the water?”

“Please, 亲爱的. Do not question me right now. Just… let us have a simple conversation. Would that be alright?” He sighs as the two of you exit the main area of the Alchemy Commission.

“I guess… You’re acting weird, you know that?” you sigh. “How was your day?”

“Great. And yours?” He answers a little too quickly.

“It’d be better if I knew what was happening.” Dan Feng turns his head to look back at you, a million words he wants to say are hidden behind his watery eyes.

Your shoe gets stuck in a crack in the stone walkway as you’re busy staring at him. You stop to pull it out but Dan Feng yanks on you, your shoe slipping off of your foot as he continues walking.

“Hey, wait! 枫仔! My shoe!” He doesn’t let go, his hand shaking in yours with a sense of urgency. “How am I supposed to walk without it?” You hop on a single foot, trying to keep up with his pace. In response, he picks you up into a bridal carry, cradling you like a parent would for their child.

“O-oh. Uh… okay. I guess I don’t mind…” You look up at his trembling jaw. Whatever’s going on, it must be very important to Dan Feng. If only he’d spit it out already so that you could offer your comfort. But the most you can offer right now is a small kiss. You bring your head up, pressing your lips against his cheek before resting your head back down on his forearm. The display of affection causes Dan Feng to stop in his tracks, but he quickly starts walking again.

“I...” He clears his throat, a light blush blossoming on his face. “That… means a lot to me right now. Thank you.”

“It’s the least I could offer you, 枫仔. You look so sad… Tell me what’s wrong.” He looks towards the horizon and the setting sun, a forlorn expression painting his face. The shadows of the evening light leave him looking especially somber. For a moment, he wants to tell you the whole truth. But he holds himself back to spare your feelings.

“I’m going somewhere. And… I won’t be returning. I am sorry, [name]. Truly. I do not wish to part ways but…” He looks down at you. A tear drips off of his face and onto yours. “There is nothing to be done about it. I… wouldn’t have done it if I realized the consequences sooner.”

“You’re… not joking. Would you tell me where you’re going? And when? Why are you being so vague?” You still couldn’t grasp the concept.

“亲爱的，you would hate me if I told you the whole truth. I could not leave knowing that you despised me. But… I’m sure you’ll find out soon when the news gets out.” Dan Feng looks back up towards the sky. You follow his gaze towards a few clouds that are coloured a hue of red from the sunset.

“I love you dearly. I apologize… I have forgone our future and forsaken you. Please remember me as someone you loved, and not a traitor to the Luofu.”

“Er… okay…? You’re really leaving?”

“Yes, I am afraid so…”

“…I love you too. Wherever you’re going, don’t forget that, okay? I… I really can’t believe it. I’m not gonna see you again. Ever…? Will you come visit me?”

“That is not possible, I fear. Though I wish more than anything that I could.”

The two of you reach the harbour. Dan Feng sets you down on the wooden planks and takes a seat beside you, dipping his legs into the water.

“Your pants are gonna be soaked, 笨蛋!”

“I am aware of that fact.” He pays you no mind, looking on into the horizon again. You gently hold is hand in yours.

“This… this is it? The last time I’ll see you? And we’re just… staring at nothing in complete silence?”

“You are speaking right now, [name].”

“What did you even do?” He glances at you. But as you make eye contact, he can’t seem to look away.

“…What are you doing?”

“You ask so many questions, 亲亲. I prefer it when you’re asleep. You’re much cuter in bed, too.” Dan Feng lightens up a little, a smile on his face as he teases you. “I’m just…” He shakes his head, as if to get himself out of a daze. “I’m just trying to remember your face. I need to make sure I don’t forget it…” His expression returns to how it was before, desolate and heartbroken.

“Make me a promise, 亲亲.”

“Go on.”

“We will meet in my next lifetime. And… we will live out a future that we could not have in this one.” He holds out his pinky finger and you take it.

“Sounds nice. I’ll hold you to it, Dan Feng.”

ask before translating, taking inspo from (not copy), reposting, etc. my work. remember to credit me and if you’re taking inspo from it, please @ me as I’d like to see what you do with my ideas!

[scarringstars]

omg saw your tags about doing an annual rewatch on t100. is it frustrating when you rewatch or do you enjoy more in retrospect? also do you rewatch s7? do you skip certain episodes or scenes? i have yet to do a rewatch but i plan to

omg your post literally put my feelings into words while rewatching S1! bellarke feels so obvious during some of these early episodes!!

rewatching it is so bittersweet! i used to do a rewatch between each new season but i couldn't rewatch for a while after s7 (i had to mourn lol) but now it keeps me in love with the show after all this time since i focus on my favorite characters/plots. i do watch all the episodes but i sort of zone out for some minor plot lines + i regularly skim thru a ton of episodes for giffing anyway

the past few times i only watched thru S5 since i personally loved S1-4 the most and while i don't like S5 as much, it has a really nice cut off where i can pretend they all lived happily ever lmfao

i've skipped thru s6 purely for the bellarke of it all but i must admit, i've actually only watched the entirety of season 7 one single time and that was enough for me!!! i keep debating if i should 'give it a chance' again but i think i'll continue to live in delusion and slowly forget what they did to ruin my beloved show!!

sorry for the essay but long story short: highly recommend the s1-5 rewatch ❤️

[laconchadetumadre]

Got any kystophe fic recs?

ugh I WISH but, as expected, there's a drought of kystophe fics:( the best kystophe i've read (and what got me to like the ship in the first place) comes from a KYMAN fic called Disintegration (is the best album ever) originally posted on ao3 and later deleted but i have a copy if you'd like to try it (and if kyman doesnt bother you too much).

The premise is basically that kyle has psychic superpowers and is kidnaped by the government and later by La Resistance. This is how he and Christophe reunite; Christophe works for La Resistance and is tasked to bring kyle to them.

Christophe and kyle have some INSANE sexual tension going on like right off the get go. They bicker and argue A LOT at first. Christophe is nihalistic but also a conspirationalist which collides with kyle's more hopeful, authoritative self. On top of that, Christophe thinks Kyle is a "precious teenage boy" (his words) while kyle mostly fixates on Christophe's lack of hope (and hygiene). Their dynamic for the first half of the fic is GOLDEN. It's kinda like chloe and delgado from Beverly Hills Chihuahua XD

some of my favorite moments between them in this fic are: When kyle is rescued by christophe and is only wearing a hospital gown that winds up accidently exposing his thigh bc christophe blew the fucking wall off. christophe does give him clothes to change into but forgets kyle's underwear AND doesnt turn around to let kyle change. when kyle calls him out on it christophe actually gets embarrassed and akwardly turns LOL. Then, kyle is supossed to purge some nanomachine tracker thingies by pissing them out and, this time, christophe does turn around to give him privacy but doesnt leave him and kyle calls him out AGAIN for being creepy LMFAO

they do mess around (like full-on make-out sesh) and its hilarious bc the author kept trying to explain it by saying that kyle was thinking of cartman while being with christophe (and christophe of gregory while with kyle) but like at some point i even forgot it was a kyman fic because of how much kystophe there is. Cartman and kyle go CHAPTERS without seeing each other, let alone interacting. All the while, Kyle is sharing spit with Christophe

the author at some point must have been like "shit, Christophe and kyle now have way better chemistry than the ship i set out to write, what do i do?" because Christophe is killed off and it is kind of implied that cartman might have been involved...

This is totally my biased kystophe ass talking, but from here on out the fic kinda goes stale... it's not bad by any means but idk i guess i was only really invested on kystophe at that point. Kyle's reaction to Christophe's death is also the most ooc shit ever. He literally goes "Another inconclusive arc!" and that's it...

Kyle keeps Christophe's scarf and kills garrison the president. The author pulls some mental gymnastics to justify 1) cartman's insane behavior towards kyle by having kyle realize he is actually just as obsessed as cartman??? And 2) kyle not fucking dropping cartman for KILLING another boy that kyle must have considered a friend at the very least (in my kystophe eyes christophe was his true love but cartman had to go and ruin it so kyle settled)

But yeah, the fic is pretty interesting, extremely well written and the author is really creative and talented.

TLDR;

no, but actually YES

. Disintegration (is the best album ever)

Kyman with LOTS of kystophe https://drive.google.com/file/d/1oOCIg2nqH5ucRXxQV8C2duKXowGYBCKl/view

. Let Us Burn

was on hiatus and hasnt updated since february but is very well written AND is a SOT au!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53702848

. Leader Of The Pack

this is an old one. the title is misleading, it has nothing to do with wolves lol the ending is also very rushed so i actually found it funny but mind the tags ig

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/1895960/1/Leader-of-the-Pack

if you want you can comeback to my askbox and idk talk about these if you want *winkwink*

Edit:

Kyle's Birthday Story

this one is mostly comedic but still has some pretty funny kystophe moments!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/4018114

[daechwitatamic]

even tho i didn't get tagged part of me wants to do a lil 2024 wrapped... but my stats are all over the place bc i started the year midway through posting a 16 chapter series and i don't really remember when i was/wasn't writing it... i also have a backlog of stuff i've read or want to read saved in my drafts that's an embarrassing number... and i'm also just not good at visual details and making things look nice (and that's on a lifetime of untreated adhd aushkjfhsafjh) so making the little banners feels intimidating

but! next year i want to be able to look back at my year better so i'll do some goals:

keep track of my stats better! i'm gonna make a lil spreadsheet :)

be better about reviewing immediately upon reading instead of stashing fics in my drafts for "later" and leaving them to rot

make more friends and interact more in the caratblr space; i feel like most of the caratblr accounts i talk to were my bts friends already... so i want to make the effort to reach out and get to know more of the new moots i've made in the later part of this year

But anyway, as far as fics go for 2024... the most popular fic was cherrybomb (which DELIGHTS me because i thought it was too niche and i love it) and my favorite was vice;grip because i tried new things with the prose and i really like how it turned out.

next year i promise to do a better job with this, but notable reads this year were of course from @sailoryooons / @sailorrhansol - never forget that i was your fan before i was your friend. constantly in awe of what your brain can do and i can't wait to someday support your Real World Fiction Endeavors.

i also spent much of this year reading everything from @magicshopaholic which was a SUPER fun experience and i'm grateful for it and i have yelled extensively about how CRAZY good her series is.

also!!! 2024 was the year of the moot because I got to chill with hali in the summer, got to drag @withleeknow around my godawful state in september, locked myself out of my car with @casuallyimagining, had a sleepover with @jihopesjoint (WHEN WAS THAT??? was that summer??? lmfao), and got to see Lee Dino and Choi Seungcheol's (and the rest of Eleventeen) beautiful beautiful human selves in person with jihopesjoint, @yoongukie-ff, and @here2bbtstrash in Octoberrrrrrr (and shout out again to casuallyimagining for getting us inside ahrwfhfuiwehfiuhf). i love yall <3

[distant-velleity]

cat got your tongue?

Summary: Five times Yuhua didn't say what he thought and one time he finally snapped at someone other than Ace (verbally. You don't get the physical beatdown yet). Word count: 3.6k+ A/N: LMFAO okay so. I had this idea like 3 weeks ago but I only got around to writing it recently. It's ... honestly somewhere between serious and slightly crack treated seriously but yk fuck it we ball. No beta. Outsider POV. FloYu crumbs and everything. Let's go. (Also a sneak peek at my new OC :))) ) Taglist (lowk forgot who's on this so uhhhhh. Some people might have been tagged incorrectly): @thehollowwriter @theleechyskrunkly @elenauaurs @casp1an-sea @nahelenia

@boopshoops @skriblee-ksk @nemisisnemi @nyx-of-night @scint1llat3

@the-banana-0verlord @beneathsakurashade

~

I. 

One day where he can make it out of the cafeteria in peace. That’s all Florian wants. And yet—

“Hey, freak. Where’s that meal combo you promised to get for me? And the homework you said you’d do for me?”

Eeeek!!!

Florian almost bursts into tears on the spot when someone in his grade, a burly bear beastman, grabs him by the back of his collar. It hasn’t even been two weeks into the school year and this guy, Darren, has made it his personal mission to target the weakest student he could find. 

“Uh—um—I—” Aaaahhhh!! Get me out of here!!!!! “M—My housewarden, Rosehearts, he… He caught me trying to do your homework for you, a-and…”

“Bullshit,” Darren snaps, “You—”

He’s cut off when someone bumps into him—that someone being none other than the magicless assistant, Yuhua. 

Yuhua. Florian’s saved! He’s really saved! Surely, the person who’d suddenly gotten involved with Heartslabyul’s tyranny and pulled off such heroic moves can do something about this…!!

“Whoa… Sorry. What’s going on here?” asks Yuhua.

Darren glares at him, and Florian wilts from second-hand fear. “Nothing, just a talk between classmates. Keep moving.”

Florian gives Yuhua the most pitiful, pleading, desperate look he can in the hopes that it’ll communicate a cry for help.

It seems to work, because the TA turns to the other freshman and tilts his head. “Yeah… That’s definitely all that’s going on? No intimidation or anything?”

“How’s any of that your business?”

“Hey—” Yuhua throws up his hands in a placating gesture, although his expression looks very bothered. “I’m just asking…”

Well, that doesn’t work. Darren lets out a low growl from the depths of his throat. “Who the hell do you think you are, seriously? You think a bunch of rumors are gonna make me afraid of you? Fuck off already.”

Yuhua frowns. “Then… Then maybe you shouldn’t consider doing this in the middle of the cafeteria if it’s private business?”

“Are you kidding me?” Another pissed off growl, and Darren shoves Yuhua. “I could burn you to ashes like it’s nothing. Don’t forget that you’re magicless.”

It’s not directed at Florian, really, but he can’t help but wither and shrink into himself even more on Yuhua’s behalf. Scary… He wants to say something to defend Yuhua, to say that everything’s fine, but—when he looks over at the TA…

Yuhua opens his mouth automatically as if to say something, then closes it. Florian isn’t nearly good enough at reading that kind of complicated expression yet, but he seems to consider something deeply for a second. “Jeez… You know what?”

“What?”

Florian stays silent, eyes wide. He mentally echoes the question—what? Did Yuhua come up with a genius plan to de-escalate the situation? Or to retaliate? Please, please, say this knight in shining armor will do something—

“I just remembered, Crewel needs Florian for something~” Putting on a smile that seems fake even to Florian, Yuhua switches up his mood like it’s nothing. “Sorry. Maybe we can resolve this another time.”

Florian and Darren blurt out, “Huh?” at the same time. 

“Come on. He won’t wait forever.” Yuhua pats Florian on the shoulder and uses that to quickly weave them into the crowd of students, making their escape. As much of an escape as it can be called—they’re really only saved by being smaller compared to the beastman, small enough to get through the lunch line mob.

Sigh…

To be honest, Florian was expecting something a little cooler after seeing Yuhua’s defeat of Riddle, but as long as he’s safe for now…

—

II.

It’s a beautiful day outside, the birds are chirping, and the flowers are blooming… something like that. Meanwhile, Ace could be doing something fun right now, but he’s stuck doing an assignment for potions class. Collecting ingredients in the botanical garden… does it get more boring than that? Someone, free him already.

At least he’s pretty sure Yu’s around here somewhere. So, once he’s done collecting a jar-ful of some plant with a name too long to memorize, he’s off to find his yellow-eyed partner in crime.

Making sure to avoid the tropical zone (Yu had warned him about a… uh, certain lion beastman taking naps there), Ace navigates the garden with the ease of a slightly-familiar tourist. The TA had said he’d be near the entrance, so—

“Well? What are you just standing there for?”

…Huh?

Ace turns a corner on the path and is immediately greeted by a sight he probably should have expected—a fight, or something, a commotion smack in the middle of the botanical garden.

“You—Is there some cue I’m missing here?” asks Yu, and Ace realizes with some horror that he’s holding a very obviously bruised cheek. Umm, what the fuck? “Is this suddenly your… territory, or something?”

The other guy, the one who’d spoken earlier, crosses his arms. “No… but I told you to scram already, so scram. Just seeing a magicless charity case here makes me sick.”

Magicless charity case. It’s not the first time Ace has heard those words directed at Yu, and it definitely won’t be the last. Still, it makes his blood boil, and by the looks of it Yu is getting pretty pissed, too. 

Ace steps forward, finding his place next to Yu. “Uh, who the hell even are you?” he asks the other guy. “Don’t talk to Yu like that.”

“Ace?” Yu blinks. “What are you—”

“See? A charity case.” The other guy tsks. “You even need a freshman to help you out.”

No, seriously, what is this guy’s deal? What did Yu even do to warrant getting hit and treated like this? Ace swears the TA is a magnet for trouble. 

“He’s not—” Yu closes his mouth, and takes a deep breath. “Okay, then. Have it your way. Ace, did you get everything you needed?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Great. Let’s go.”

Even though Yu is a solid eleven or so centimeters shorter than him, Ace finds himself being dragged out of the garden by the coat lapels. He stumbles, but Yu keeps pressing forward, storming away until they’re well out of earshot from that prick.

Finally, Yu lets go.

“What was that?” Ace demands, straightening his labcoat to the best of his ability.

“I don’t know,” mutters Yu. “Some asshole. I don’t even know his name.”

“Okay. And why did we just leave like that? He hit you, didn’t he? And what he called you—you’re just gonna let that slide?”

Ace is, to be frank, nothing short of bewildered. Doesn’t Yu have any sort of dignity, a sense of, what, honor? Yes he does, Ace is pretty sure he’s seen it, so why didn’t he just… you know… let himself be mad?

Yu rolls his eyes. “It’s fine. There were still other students there, you know. I didn’t want to cause a scene.”

Cause a—

“Now, can we go to the infirmary? I don’t like talking to the nurse on my own.”

“You—”

Oh, what the hell. 

Ace doesn’t get it at all, he wishes Yu would have stood up for himself, but fine. That stupid bruise won’t heal itself.

—

III.

To call the Mostro Lounge boring would be inaccurate. With a bustling population of both students and employees at most times of the day, there’s always some entertainment to be had for Jade. Especially when he’s on the job, serving drinks and handling disputes.

But, well… That isn’t to say he minds when there’s a bit of additional drama. Especially on the day when Azul has asked Yuhua to cover someone’s shift.

CRASH!

An Ignihyde student shoves the TA, although it looks like a mere accident—a rush to get back to his well-earned seat after using the bathroom. Consequently, the drinks for their table are spilled… all over Yuhua, who’s been knocked to the ground.

“What the hell?!” demands the student. “You clumsy little bitch—those were our drinks!”

Stunned, Yuhua is frozen, staring at the fallen drinks in shame. “I—”

Oh, dear. There’s a bit of a berth forming around them, multiple people craning their heads to look at the source of the shouting, but Jade can get a good look even from this distance. 

“I can’t believe this.” The student continues to go on a tirade, complaining about the service, about whoever let Yuhua work—and finishes off with, “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Oh my—what arrogance. 

Jade is rather certain, actually, that this Pomefiore student was one of many who had been turned into anemones by Azul just a few weeks ago. It seems that he’s painfully unaware of how much Yuhua had sacrificed to save his sorry hide, however.

And Jade is certain that the same thought is running through Yuhua’s mind right now, although he can’t quite see his face. The TA digs his long nails into the fabric of his pants, a clear sign of suppressing anger.

Oh, dear~ Perhaps, it’s time for Jade to extend a helping hand—

Instead of fighting back, Yuhua lets out a soft sigh that blows his bangs out of his face. The action reminds Jade something of a popped balloon.

“Sorry,” the pitiful TA replies, finally raising his head. His expression is neutral despite the remaining redness of his cheeks. “I’ll take care of it. You’ll be rightfully compensated for this.” Said a bit despairingly, resigned. 

It seems to appease the student, who grumbles a little more before sitting back down. 

Yuhua’s lips set into a thin line for a moment. He gets himself back onto his feet, only kneeling down again to collect the fallen drink glasses and tray. The other waiters make a respectful, awkward space around him as they walk by.

How… disappointing. Jade would have anticipated more of a fight, based on not only certain rumors but also what he had seen during Azul’s Overblot, but it seems Yuhua hadn’t quite reached the boiling point just now. Instead, he’d settled for people-pleasing.

If it were me, thinks Jade with a pleasant smile on his face, I wouldn’t have let that ungrateful anemone escape with all his teeth and joints intact.

But in any case—

“Do you need any assistance?” he asks, approaching Yuhua.

He gets a surprised look for his troubles, and a rejection. “No, it’s okay…” Yuhua smiles, laughing it off. “The customer’s always in the right, right? I’ll handle it myself.”

Having been brushed off, Jade simply watches as Yuhua scurries back over to the kitchen counter.

Hmm. I wonder if he’s simply playing the long game, then…

—

IV.

Of all the places that Jamil usually expects to hear arguing, the library ranks last. Generally. Not that it’s always free from arguing, but that’s probably on him for having even the slightest faith in NRC students. 

Speaking of which, that’s exactly what he hears when he enters the library one day after classes: arguing. It’s coming from behind a shelf, so Jamil has to guess who it is based on voice alone.

“Please quiet down.” That’s… Crewel’s assistant, Yuhua. “Crewel needs me to borrow this, okay?”

“Uh, hello? Are you not good enough to be his assistant, or something? I need it more. So just hand it over already.”

Jamil stifles a sharp, stressed inhale. That’s a Scarabia student, no doubt—one of his former roommates. Ugh. And just when he thought he could skirt by without having to get involved. What a way to reflect poorly on our whole dorm…

He creeps around the side of the shelf, and what he sees confirms his well-educated guess. A student with a maroon armband towers over Yuhua, who holds a rather thick textbook in hand. The student’s back is to Jamil, but Yuhua’s expression is still visible…

Wait a minute. What the hell? Is… Is Yuhua glaring at the taller guy?

Jamil recalls a conversation he’d had with Ace just the other day: Ace had been in such a hurry to get out of practice that he’d caused multiple… inconveniences for others.

“Yu’s gonna kill me if I’m late for studying!” was his excuse.

“Why are you so scared of Yuhua?” Jamil had asked. Even though Yuhua had been… present, for his Overblot, he still didn’t quite get the control the TA seemed to have over the freshmen. 

“You don’t get it, man,” Ace had said. “I almost pissed myself the first time Yu got seriously mad at me. You don’t think anything’s happening because he’s just narrowing his eyes at you, but it’s like toggling a lightswitch. He gets violent out of nowhere.”

At the time, Jamil had shrugged it off with his normal amount of skepticism. Even though he had proved himself able to be as two-faced and cruel as any other student in this school (Jamil never, in his life, wanted to be on the receiving end of the full Octavinelle trio’s scheming again), Yuhua still seemed too… docile. Too naturally passive to be like that when angry. It wasn’t the first time Ace had exaggerated, either.

But now, he’s seeing all the warning signs Ace had mentioned. How Yuhua is narrowing his eyes like an irked cat. If he allows this to continue, then—Oh, great. A fight. In the library, no less. Another problem he’ll have to clean up because it’s his dorm’s student who likely started this mess and will inevitably get into trouble.

With a long-suffering sigh, Jamil steps forward to intervene—

“...Okay, fine,” Yuhua concedes, although it’s a bit of a reluctant grumble. He holds out the textbook instead of bashing it over the student’s head like Jamil had expected him to. 

A scoff. “See? Wasn’t that hard.”

“...Right.” Yuhua turns as the student walks away, so his expression is unreadable. 

Huh.

Jamil stares blankly for a few moments. That… did not go as he expected, at all. 

So much for ‘explosive anger,’ really. Yuhua had just given up.

Well, whatever. Jamil will just chalk it up to Ace’s overdramatic nature and think nothing of it. As long as it was resolved peacefully without needing him to risk grey hairs…

—

V.

When Vil calls for a rare water break, Rook takes the opportunity to observe the NRC Tribe’s stiffest fledglings. 

Today, again, they’ve taken on pirouettes in a corner where they can still see the mirror. Certainly, it makes for quite a sight: the normally-withdrawn TA trying to instruct two freshmen who have likely never seen a true ballet performance in their lives.

Rook had known Yuhua had a history in dance and music from the start—there was a clear lift to his chin and in his posture when he didn’t feel insecure, holding himself high and sitting on the edge of every seat. He walked with a slight turnout, and was light on his feet; not to mention the controlled expressiveness of his hands. However, the TA didn’t seem to enjoy flaunting these facts, making moments like these all the more enjoyable. 

“Epel.” Yuhua frowns, a little soft and yet a little frustrated. “Are you trying?”

The Pomefiore freshman bites the inside of his lower lip. “Uh, well…”

A sigh. “That’s about what I thought. Vil and I aren’t asking much: just a clean single so you can master the basics.” Yuhua crosses his arms. “Is something on your mind?”

“I just…” Epel grimaces. “I still don’t get it. What’s so manly about any of this turning?”

Ah, there it is again.

Rook does not intervene, continuing to observe, even though he can see Yuhua’s eyes briefly twitch into narrowing and his lips press into a strained smile. Any dancer would start to lose it after yet another generalization of their field, especially an ignorantly derogatory one. After multiple generalizations, in fact.

Like any trained performer, however, he smooths it down. That self-control is beautiful in its own right, no matter how strained.

“Manly, huh…?”

Epel yelps as Yuhua, deceptively calm, grabs his arm to adjust it.

“Your elbows are too stiff. Don’t interrupt the line; make them look round and effortless.” A tap to Epel’s back. “Don’t lean forward when you plié, you’re not about to break into a sprint; if your pelvis isn’t under you, then you’ll be off-balance when you turn.” And then, a nudge to the underside of Epel’s chin. “Don’t look at the ground. Look at yourself in the mirror. Keep your chin level so you can spot properly.”

The foundational advice is given almost clinically, automatically. Rook watches with keen interest as Yuhua withholds the same kind of scathing strictness Vil would have easily dished out, even though this must be the second or third time he’s had to say these things to Epel. 

“Deuce,” Yuhua asks levelly, “did you hear everything I just said?” To the trained ear, it sounds like a test, an I am on my last straw so there is only one correct answer here.

Thankfully, one of his students is more eager to learn than the other. “Yes!” is the earnest reply from the two of spades, who is already adjusting his posture after listening with the utmost dedication.

“Thank you.” Yuhua turns back to Epel. “We don’t have a lot of time. Just focus on improving for the SDC, okay?”

Epel bristles at being treated like a child, but nods. 

A smile spreads across Rook’s face. Ahh, the liveliness of a dancer and his mentees at work…

“Rook.” Vil’s voice snaps him out of his momentary reverie. “Let’s continue practicing.”

Right. Duty calls.

 “Of course~”

—

VI.

By now, Floyd had noticed, most people were learning to steer clear of starting shit with Yu. On top of him making more friends, on top of the (true) rumors that he’d Overblotted, most people had probably just accepted his presence.

(It also probably helped that Floyd regularly finds great joy in standing behind Yu and scaring off anyone who tried to be a problem.)

But, even then… 

Some people don’t take the hint.

Floyd doesn’t know how or why it started, only that when he walks into the courtyard of the main school building, there’s someone yelling at Yu like it’s his Seven-given right. It’s so loud, like a dog’s yapping. So annoying.

Bark, bark, bark. Floyd doesn’t listen to the full thing because it’s not worth his time, but it feels like it goes on for forever. To the point where people are gathering like it’s some kind of show, heads turning.

What a serious mood killer. Maybe Floyd should get involved, start a fight. Let everyone have a piece of this idiot. It doesn’t look like Yu will: he’s just standing there, silent, suffering quietly like he usually would.

“What’s wrong, cat got your tongue?” taunts the nasally little offender. Of course, he’s the worst breed of coward—only able to say these things once Yu is on his lonesome. “No one’s here to defend you now, huh? Aren’t you gonna say something?”

Silence.

“Well?”

“Haaah…” Yu closes his eyes. “I’m seriously sick of your shit.”

“Huh—”

That’s the only thing the yapper can get out before Yu grabs him by the face. His fingers dig into the person’s cheeks, the palm of his hand conveniently muffling any complaints. If looks could kill, he’d be a murderer. 

“Didn’t you hear me the first time? I said I’m sick and tired of your bullshit!” Yu shouts. He angrily tightens his grip. “Listen, buddy, I don’t know who the hell you think you are—I don’t know who half the people at this school think they are—but someone needs to humble you, desperately. Have you heard yourself?” 

His voice reaches a high, mocking pitch: “Ohhh, no! There’s a magicless person at my school, but I think I deserve to be hot shit because I can make a few pathetic sparks with my magic! I’m gonna pick on him to assert my nonexistent dominance because I think he looks like a weak doormat!

“Yeah, well, womp fuckin’ womp. Being chosen by the Dark Mirror doesn’t mean anything. You’re just a copy-and-paste of every other small fry I’ve met at this school. Ego in the clouds, even though your performance is so bad that you reek of failed contracts and the threat of being held back. Am I right?” Yu scoffs without waiting for an answer. “Grow the fuck up already. Aren’t you embarrassed? Don’t you have any respect for anyone?” 

He lets go with a shove, pushing the previously-confident person to the ground. Yu’s heel finds a nice spot to rest on the student’s chest and send a message.

“Do us all a favor and actually have the bite to back up your bark next time. You’re making a fool out of yourself.”

And even after yelling like that, Yu walks away like it’s nothing.

Oh, Sea Witch. Floyd feels ready and raring to kick ass again. 

That was great.

—

(bonus:

Riddle has no idea how he ended up in this situation, but here he is. Having ended up next to Floyd, watching Yuhua curse a student out.

For good reason, of course. But Riddle didn’t even know that the TA had that in him.

“...Well.” Riddle turns to leave—that’s enough of enjoying the ‘show’ for today. He makes to weave his way out of the crowd that’s gathered, but something makes him pause. He looks up.

There’s a dumb, dopey, lovestruck look on Floyd’s face. That’s the only way Riddle can think to describe his smile, mismatched eyes following after the exiting Yuhua.

…what can he even say in this situation? Riddle stifles an embarrassed grimace and walks away.)

[sivon-acidwyrm-collections]

[[Introduction and Tag List]]

(Updated in 2025 January 22nd)

Helloooooo fellow Tumblr users and lurkers!! My name is Sivon/Tivon/De, which are names I chose for myself because I want to keep my real name protected.

[My nonsense acc is @wherever-snakes-go-i-go, and my reblogging account is @sivon-goes-reblogging] [My acc for posting and acting like The Sludge is @moss-thing3]

I may be more fond of being referred as she/her, though I have no problems being referred to as anything else! It's mostly from how I see gender, regarding the fact that I do have one! It's just difficult to define it (I'm nonbinary.)

I am an artist, a writer and a gamer! Though drawing takes a lot more time for me to do because it's easy for me to get distracted, as well as the fact that it takes some time for me to finish sketching, linearting and shading, since I'm a bit of a perfectionist... But it's quicker for me to write! Which might result in less than perfect grammar, forgotten words, incorrect use of words and spelling. I'm no English major!!!

Since I can play both mobile, browser and laptop games, I am somewhat good with shoot em up games, just not that great at PVP... I keep dying LMFAO

(Deimos spotted up here. Yes it's him I see similar to myself.)

My interests are, from my biggest to miscellaneous fixations: Madness Combat, Murder Drones, ENA: Dream BBQ, Wreck It Ralph, Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Sonic the Hedgehog, snakes, Speculative Evolution/Biology, robots, aliens, eldritch abominations, godlike critters and finally... OCs and AUs.

You see, my brain is obsessed with different iterations of existing medias, ranging from absurd and ridiculous ideas to the most bafflingly different concept that it makes people raise their brows or be exasperated from the idea. Though I do it for my own interest and impulses!!! I think so much I got to write them down!!

+ Creations +:

I spend quite some time fleshing out my original characters, species and even my AUs, though it may be scattered information because my thoughts move by so quickly I can't keep track of them!

Here are the lists of species I've made, with enough fleshed out information to be included: Pyerns, Gyrdats, Yrphes, Dryadronts, Hynuas

I am definitely not going to add my character list here, because I just have too many of them... Both fandom AND original wise, so I'll just add my AUs here:

The Zilogyte Trio, Serpent Madness (Pyern AU of Madness Combat), Pyern AUs in general

(I only listed these three AUs because they're the only ones that are the most consistent in my mind and what I remember the most, in general)

# Tags #:

Finally! The moment that I have been waiting for! The perfect way to organize my tags just so I can remember what they're for!

Creation-related Tags

#AlteredsArt

#AlteredsWriting

#AlteredsReferences

#FanartForSivon

#AlteredsCharacter_ or #AlteredsOCs_

#Altered.Madness

#Altered.Drones

#Altered.Teetles

#Altered.Hogs

Minor Tags

#Sivon rambles

#--random talk incoming-- (just me rambling in tags)

#Sivon nonsense

#Sivon gaming

#Miscellaneous Sivon Thangs

#The Zilogyte Trio

#Serpent Madness

#Pyern AU

Behavioural Notes: I'm way too talkative for my own good, and forget things a little too much ... I also struggle with certain phrases no matter how obvious they can be, so it'll take time for me to process what you mean! I may be socially awkward. Yeah. I'm also easily nervous so don't expect me to reblog too much.........bleegh

I do have this odd tendency to climb into any public activities and fandoms, but eventually crawl back into my private space... I do this VERY often so i am.... kind of reclusive after a while of socialization in a group

I am also passionate over characters, whether they're your ocs or characters from existing media! I love varying takes and diverse headcanons of characters!!!! RAAAGHHH!!!! I also don't mind being dumped with headcanons and AUs and things!! I love creativity..... Even the stupid kind of creativity too..,,

I DONT MIND WHEN MY OLD POSTS ARE REPOSTED! live laugh love timeless posts

[pedroshotwifey]

Christmas Countdown Day 12 - Javi G.

Experiments

Pairing: Javi G. x afab!reader

Word count: 1.4k

Tags/Warnings: no use of y/n, anal sex, anal fingering, drug use (THC edible), < idk how that actually works but I tried by best lmfao, nicknames (baby, carino, hermosa), paddington 2 honorable mention, stuff im forgetting

Summary: You and Javi get a chance to try out some new stuff

A/N: Don't know if I really like this one tbh. I found it kinda hard to write for Javi G. and it was rly late and I was tired and I'm making excuses, but, like. yeah. Hope y'all like it anyway! Tmw's prompt is snuggling, and I don't know what pboy I'll be writing for that one yet, so feel free to leave a suggestion!

***

“Babe,” you drag out through a laugh. “Quit smiling!”

Javi attempts to obey your request, but only ends up smiling wider, a laugh of his own bubbling up in his throat.

The two of you are sitting on the bed naked, you on his thighs, placing an edible on his stuck-out tongue. You’ve already popped a tab in your mouth, now just waiting for it to dissolve. 

Paddington 2 is playing on low volume on the TV in the corner, but neither of you are paying much attention to it. 

You giggle as you finally get the tab to stick to Javi’s tongue, and he closes his mouth before leaning forward to plant a kiss on your lips. You sigh into him, placing your hands on his shoulders. 

Javi looks you warmly in the eyes and runs a hand through your hair when you pull away. 

“You ready, hermosa?” 

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you grin back. 

The two of you have had this conversation a few times before, but today just seems like the perfect day to go through with it. Neither of you have plans tomorrow, so you have all night to act out your deepest fantasies. Might as well do it with some THC. 

You lift yourself off of his lap and position yourself so that you're on your elbows and knees in front of him. 

“Fuckkk, baby,” Javi drags the words out. “So fucking sexy. Let me see your pretty holes,” he instructs you as he leans over to get the bottle of lube out of the nightstand drawer. 

You follow his request, quickly reaching behind you to spread your cheeks, revealing both your virgin asshole and your glistening pussy lips. 

“Damn it,” he groans from behind you, positioning himself on his knees. “Perfect fucking ass, baby.” 

You squirm and have to hold in a whine at his praise, your mind already going a bit hazy as the drugs start to kick in. There’s a studden snap from behind you, making you flinch. 

“No, ‘s okay, carino. Just gonna get you ready for me.”

You nod into the sheets and close your eyes, jolting when a cold substance starts to drip down your crack. 

“Feels so weird,” you say, words tumbling out without your permission. Javi chuckles as he snaps the lube back up and sets it down. 

“I know, baby. Just relax for me.” 

Suddenly, Javi has a finger at your hole, gently spreading lubrication around the tight ring of muscle. He applies a bit of pressure, and the tip of his finger slips in with ease. There’s barely anything there yet, but you can already see the appeal. 

“‘S good,” you slur into the sheets, your eyes still closed. 

“That’s good, baby, jus’ tell me if it’s too much.” 

Even Javi’s words are starting to sound a bit muffled, though that’s partly because he’s starting to feel the effects of the drug as well. He slides the rest of his finger in and starts to pump it in and out. 

You moan as he curls the digit slightly and it hits a heavenly spot within you, your brows scrunching as your jaw goes slack. You buck back into him, already craving more.

“Gonna put another one in, okay?” Javi asks, leaning over slightly to get closer to you. 

“Mkay,” you say, moving your hands so that you can grip the bed sheets. Javi Immediately takes over holding you open by gripping onto one cheek. 

“There’s a good girl, doing so good for me, hermosa,” he assures you as he slips another finger in. 

Soon enough, he’s able to keep three fingers inside of you comfortably. You’re a whining, moaning mess beneath him, but he’s almost just as bad with the noises he’s making. 

Without warning, he moves the hand holding your asscheek down and between your legs, quickly finding your neglected clit and making you gasp. He rubs fast circles, causing you to keen and buck your hips. 

Your brain feels like complete mush between the THC and the euphoria Javi’s producing. Every swipe of his fingers in your ass makes you groan and push back into him, so with the combination of your clit being touched, your orgasm is quick to approach. 

Before you can warn him, a wave of pleasure is wracking your body as your cunt convulses around nothing. Javi picks up speed as he fingers your ass, muttering praises as you ride out your orgasm. You think you might be drooling a bit, but you don’t care enough to check. 

“Alright, ‘m gonna fuck this little ass now,” Javi says as he pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you gaping slightly. You nod at him, making a non-committal but somehow affirmative sound. 

He doesn’t waste another moment before lubing up his throbbing cock, tugging on himself a few times to warm it up for you. 

He notches himself at your entrance, groaning as he slips his tip in. 

“So good, baby, so fucking tight.” 

“More,” you whine, reaching one hand behind you to attempt to grasp him. He laughs lightly at you, prompting you to giggle as well, only for you to be cut off with a moan as he feeds more of his cock into your ass. 

You cry out when you feel his pelvis touching your ass, and he leans over you to let out a loud groan. He’s already sitting at that spot that makes you squirm, so there’s immediately a dull excitement low in your abdomen as you wait for him to move. 

And he does, not a few seconds later. He’s slow as he pulls his hips away from you, dragging his cock along your walls, and then he slams back in, almost knocking the wind out of you. He keeps up a brutal pace, grunting and moaning as he grips your hips tightly. 

You fold your arms under your head, trying to control the sounds you’re making with no success. 

“‘S so g-good, Javi,” you say through a whine. 

“I-I know, baby,” he says, sounding just as wrecked. “‘M already so fucking close. T-Tight little asshole feels so good.”

You move one hand down and start to rub at your clit, determined to come at the same time as him. 

“Fill me up, baby,” you slur out. Javi whines in response, his pace picking up which makes you sink your front end deeper into the sheets. Your entire body feels heavy, and you’re grateful Javi is holding you by your hips so you don’t fall completely. 

You feel a coil low in your belly, tightening and getting ready to snap. Every nerve feels raw, and your body feels like it’s getting warmer with every thrust from Javi and each pass of your fingers. 

“C-Come with me now, hermosa” Javi spits out, his cock already twitching in your ass. The soft movement sets you off, and you begin to come again. Your ass tightens slightly around Javi, which triggers his orgasm, and he comes with a shout, filling you with hot ropes of his cum. 

You gasp for air as you ride out your orgasms together, your movements going slower but sloppier at the same time. As soon as you’re both finished, you collapse, Javi coming down with you. 

He slips out of you, which makes you whine. You can already feel his release dribbling out of your used hole and down to your untouched pussy. He finds a spot next to you on his stomach, his face next to yours. 

Panting for breath, you stare each other in the eye, and then you start to giggle. What for, you have no idea, but you’re both cackling messes before long. 

You scootch toward him slightly, ignoring the dull pain coming from your lower body. Your vision is slightly blurry, but you’re close enough to find his lips. You make out like a couple of teenagers for what seems like hours, but is actually only a few minutes. 

After your lips start to feel numb, you separate, and you somehow have enough of a conscious mind to turn around and look at the clock. The numbers are too blurred for you to make them out, but you’re pretty sure you can make out a 3:02 if you squint hard enough. 

When you turn around to make Javi get up and check for you, he’s already snoring. You smile and put your head back down, dozing off within less than a minute.

***

Thank you for reading! Please consider liking, reblogging, or commenting if you enjoyed!

Also, lmk if you would like to join the countdown taglist :)

FOTJC: @arcanefox207 @redhotkitchen @magpiepills @exquisiteserotonin @sparklefarts38 @pink-whiskey-woman @youandmeand5bucks @legendary-pink-dot @for-a-longlongtime @secretelephanttattoo @morallyinept @beskarandblasters @tightjeansjavi @theywhowriteandknowthings @nerdieforpedro @maggiemayhemnj @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @ghostofaboy @joels-shitty-puns @elvinaa

WCC: @amyispxnk @melaninmommy @brittmb115 @mandoalorian

Link to prompt list

[miss--river]

Get To Know Me

tagged by @callthedarknessdown! thank you so much! and im sorry i took so long! i kept forgetting about it until i was laying in bed 😭 but im doing it now!

tagging: @breezypunk @thelonestrider @caer-oswin @chevvy-ryder @otherpigeon (no pressure though!)

1 ) are you named after someone? not my real name but the name i go by now, yes. i just dont want to say who it is because that might give away what my real name is. there's very few online people who know my real name and i'd like to keep it that way.

2 ) when is the last time you cried? last week! i watched a movie called Nowhere and it made me cry like 3 times lmfao

3 ) do you like your handwriting? no, its messy. tbh i personally didnt care about that until my mom made me feel self conscious about it in high school. the embarrassment has stuck with me ever since

4 ) what is your favorite lunch meat? baloney! sometimes i like to take a slice and then put a slice cheese on it and roll it up so the cheese on the inside! its something ive loved since i was a kid

5 ) do you have kids? no and i dont want any either

6 ) if you were another person, would you be friends with you? probably not because im a very quiet person with bad social anxiety irl and i dont approach people unless i really have to

7 ) do you use sarcasm? yeah but i make it obvious

8 ) do you still have your tonsils? yup!

9 ) would you bungee jump? nah i dont think so

10 ) what is your favorite kind of cereal? french toast crunch for cereals i like with milk. for cereals i prefer to eat dry its cinnamon toast crunch. i feel like the milk makes it taste like cardboard

11 ) do you untie your shoes when you take them off? no, i dont think ive had to tie my shoes in a very long time. like i cant remember when the last time was. when i get a new pair of shoes and tie them up for the first time, thats it, they're staying tied

12 ) do you think you're a strong person? physically? no. mentally? also no

13 ) what is your favorite ice cream flavor? plain chocolate. like i feel like nothing else can beat it. obviously there are other really good ones but plain chocolate is just perfect to me

14 ) what is the first thing you notice about people? their face i guess?

15 ) red or pink? i left my pink hating days in high school so im gonna go with pink lmao. it really is a nice color

16 ) what do you least like about yourself physically? everything? i look like a swamp monster

17 ) what color pants and shoes are you wearing now? im not wearing shoes but im wearing a pair of navy colored basketball shorts as pjs

18 ) what was the last thing you ate? pulled pork sandwich! im about to dig into some strawberries though

19 ) what are you listening to right now? james (uberhaxornova aka nova) play elden ring

20 ) if you were a crayon, what color would you be? i hope some kind of pretty orange

21 ) favorite smell? any kind of peppermint or apple scent

22 ) who was the last person you spoke to on the phone? my boss last week. she's still trying to get hr to take all those points that came out of nowhere off so i dont get wrongfully fired. she can be a really shitty person but at least she understand how important it is that i need this job lmao

23 ) favorite sport to watch? none, i dont like sports. and as much i love video games i dont even like esports

24 ) hair color? dark blonde

25 ) eye color? blue

26 ) do you wear contacts? no and i wish i wasnt so freaked out by them. i hate wearing glasses

27 ) favorite food to eat? chinese food forever and for always

28 ) scary movies or comedy? scary!

29 ) last movie you watched? smile 2

30 ) what color shirt are you wearing? black and it has the two skeletons on it with guns and a caption on it saying 'born to shit, forced to wipe'

31 ) summer or winter? winter!

32 ) hugs or kisses? i dont really like either tbh. i dont like being touched

33 ) what book are you currently reading? none atm

34 ) who do you miss right now? my sister! my mom is visiting her rn but i couldnt afford to fly out

35 ) what is on your mouse pad? i actually have a desk pad and its van gogh's starry night

36 ) what is the last tv program you watched? i havent watched tv since like high school lmao. but the last show i watched from a website i didnt have to pay for was the original devil may cry anime

37 ) what is the best sound? the way my cat meows at me after he just woke up

38 ) rolling stones or the beatles? neither i guess. both have good songs but i dont really care for either of them

39 ) what is the farthest you have ever traveled? i once had to move from my home town in virginia to utah

40 ) do you have a special talent? nope

41 ) where were you born? manassas, va but my home town is woodbridge, va

[yourflame]

USING MY PSYCHOKINETIC POWERS TO COMPEL YOU TO YAP ABOUT YOUR PHANTOM BNUUY

I DIDN'T FORGET ABOUT THIS ASK BTW I'M VERY FLATTERED YOU WANNA HEAR ABOUT IT !!

i'll say this first though: i don't have any concrete designs for these characters, they're just concept designs at the moment because my attention to design them won't last long enough.

first i'll kinda set the scene! the lunar dimension is a parallel world to sonic and blaze's worlds, and it's aesthetic is inspired by vaguely steam-punk / old western / dark victorian / & generally old world cultures... with ofc the halloween-town like vibe (it's meant to feel charmingly spooky :3 cuz halloween aesthetic is one of my faves and i grew up on soul eater heehee)

Fable the Jack-Rabbit is the sonic-stand-in for his dimension: the lunar dimension. similar to blaze, he was the prince of his kingdom, but ultimately ended up denouncing that title when things broke bad, for their world was plunged into an eternal darkness that he was kinda framed as being the malicious cause for (it was actually warlocknik - a dangerous warlock that keeps messing with the undead so they can power his steam-badniks (aka this universe's eggman.)

fable used to go by feels, (and before that, felice) - and there was this prophecy when he was born that he would bring bad luck to their kingdom (a nod to white-rabbit symbolism) and the theme of bad-luck is kinda big with fable.

warlocknik permanently fucked with supernatural forces and broke the barrier between the living and the dead, so at night there are always spirits roaming around. many of them are harmless! but many are also malevolent and dangerous.

Fable got into a scuffle with Warlocknik when he discovered he was trying to steal the... the... Thing. (idk i'm still working it out but in typical Eggman fashion he stole a powerful artifact to unleash the undead) - Fable tried to stop him, and accidentally received powers that ALLOW HIM TO GO-GHOST (yeah, he's basically danny phantom lmfao) - he can phase through walls and interact with/talk to the dead. he's also fast like Sonic and Blaze and can kick/jump really good.

this event, like i said, plunged the world into 'eternal darkness' and everyone thought it was Fable's fault bc of the prophecy. he set out to fix this mistake, his friend Ally Cat (Amy stand-in) who's a western styled gunslinger tagged along because she wasn't about to let him do this alone. on the way, they met a steam-punk tinkerer owlet named Omen the Owl (Tails stand-in) and this eccentric, undead 'hellhound' named Crypt the Wolf (Knuckles stand-in) that's basically if Ryuk from Death Note was also Beetlejuice and Free from Soul Eater and also liked to sing a lot lol. Crypt was hunting Fable because of his contact with supernatural powers and his soul needed to be returned to the realm of the dead (basically plays the part of grim-reaper here) BUT with Omen's clever thinking, he helps Fable and Ally trick Crypt into all playing instruments together, which seemed to appease the swaths of undead spirits in the area. by doing this, they were able to win over Crypt and make a deal with him that he could take Fable's soul when Fable finally died... since... technically, he's still alive. this would also mark the beginning of Fable's 'rebellion' as he realized he loved playing music and adventuring with his new friends, he didn't wanna be a leadership figure anymore- he wants to play in his new band!

together, the four went on this long quest and were able to take down Warlocknik and purge the eternal darkness. however, the bridge between the realm of living and realm of the dead was still broken, so at night spirits still come out to haunt and cause mischief. i like to imagine there was this big emotional moment with Crypt where they all thought he was gonna have to leave and they'd lose their lead singer because they fixed everything, but then he comes back out of the spirit gate and is like 'nope, it's still busted gang.' KDFSDJF

also, there is a Shadow-stand in! his name is Splice the Stoat, and he's an actual demon hunter. he traded his ability to feel emotions in order to have the power to kill demons, because deMONS KILLED HIS FAMILY OK!!

yeah, it's all kinda my brain child that i'd love to add here and have interact with ppl. i just don't know when i will, because it'll require a lot of character design and iconing and drawing and bleh... but yeah!

ALSO, THERE'S A PLAYLIST FOR THE TYPE OF MUSIC I THINK THEY PLAY. their band is called the 'Backyard Bandits'!