#((also damn ghost you better hope she knows what you even Mean by the ''abyss'' gfhdhf))

[abyssembraced]

Returning to the Abyss… Without a doubt, that would be a difficult task. Even ignoring the fact that the Entity's complete form was far too large to properly traverse Hallownest's winding tunnels, how would they do so without harming their surroundings? They certainly couldn't remain here in the Junk Pit, but leaving would render their struggle to get their powers under control nearly pointless!

…Perhaps they could attempt to seep down into the Abyss through the floor..? Would that work?

As Ghost mused on what to do next, they witnessed the serpent shapeshift back into the form they were more familiar with. Well, that answered that question, at least.

Wait, what did she say? The stranger—no, the friend? Friend Noir? She… Claimed she could transport them?

Given how much she had already helped them, they were inclined to trust her.

And… Their new friend was Void, at least of some sort, too. Now that they could truly focus on her, Ghost could sense it through their Heart. A substance familiar yet foreign, interwoven with the core of her being. As she said, her Void was different from their own and that of Hallownest's. However, perhaps it was still possible for them to request actions from her, as they could with the Shades.

So, through their own core, Ghost reached out toward that Void they felt, attempting to establish a connection between it and themself. It was more difficult than usual to properly grasp those strands of empty darkness; the differing forms of Void appeared to struggle to fully mix. Still, though tenuous, a slight link finally seemed to form between the two, and thus Void Heart glowed once more as Ghost cast out their telepathic command:

« GO TO ABYSS »

While she already seemed to have some sort of idea of where they needed to go, they wanted to make their desired destination completely clear.

But, just in case their message failed to reach its intended recipient, Ghost nodded the great Entity's head in response to Friend Noir's question. For added emphasis, one of Its four arms pointed downward as well.

Progressing step be step, the lessons his sister had taught him are put to use to keep the repressive void at bay until they recede on their own. As they do so, Divo's own electric light is finally exhausted and the little whelp gives a small sigh. Slumping against a tunnel wall he takes a moment to catch his breath and think about how he's going to make his way down.

Well, until something is bunting it's head against him curiously, having followed the shadows of regret up from the depths out of pure curiosity.

Back in the junk pit, as the unified godling collects themselves and finally calms, the lindwurm loosens her coils. Eyes across her body close, leaving only the seven colored one on her face watching them. Seems consuming that excess emotional overload was the right move after all. "...There you go, Little Ones..." Clearly, her attention turns to the entity's core; Ghost themselves. "Lot better now without all that panic, hm? You're doing amazing with this, so far."

Noir gives a small purr, before shifting back to a smaller form to allow the Void Given Focus more room and staying floating in place. "Name's Noir; guess you could say you and I are similar kinds of gods. Even if my brand of void is much more vast than that here in Hallownest."

"My brother and I heard your calls and figured we'd check things out. Seems good that we did." There's a small chuff, her own shadow-bound eyes finally locating that pit of regret that might very well produce a form of void itself. "You lot're from deeper down, right? You wanna head in that direction so you have more room? I can handle getting us there."

[dinosaurtsukki]

haikyuu!! buzzfeed unsolved AU

OK THIS IS THE LAST BUZZFEED UNSOLVED RELATED HEADCANON SET I PROMISE 

[edit: check out the link at the bottom of the post for more buzzfeed unsolved au content :)]

hinata and kageyama:

90% of the show is them yelling and nobody watches it with earphones on

both of them believe in ghosts but that doesn't mean they want to see one

hinata will literally go to the bathroom five times before going to the spooky house and kageyama gets mad at him for it but there is Fear in his eyes

producer: 'were you scared?'

kageyama: 'pfft, no'

cameraman: *points camera down to show that kageyama's legs are shaking*

they also bring a shit ton of food with them when they stay the night at a place and they'll deadass be eating while talking about the history of the place

‘this house *crunch crunch* was built in *crunch crunch* 1972'

the producers tell them to stop bringing snacks but fans of the show love it

sometimes they'll shoot a mini mukbang video

SPICY, BARBECUE POTATO FRIES | Mukbang at the Waverly Hills Asylum'

hinata: *looking up how to do a seance on wikihow* it says we gotta offer some food for the spirit

kageyama: *spills the doritos he was eating on the table

*after 20 minutes*

kageyama: fuck this

hinata: *starts eating the doritos*

producer: ...

the ghosts: ..................the, audacity

tsukishima and yamaguchi

pretty much a ryan and shane duo right here

yamaguchi: we'll be visiting this place as part of our ongoing investigation on the question, are ghosts real?

tsukishima: *shakes head*

yamaguchi just wants to see the look of fear in tsukishima’s eyes at least once

yamaguchi: *hears a random thump sound* fUCk tSuKkI a gHoSt!!!

tsukishima: *sees a chair being tossed across the room* huh, the wind is pretty strong today

he likes to stick his head into attics to scare yamaguchi

yamaguchi always carries a water gun full of holy water

yamaguchi: i have holy water with me and i'm not afraid to use it! but i'm also sorry you had to die such a horrible death i hope you find peace soon

tsukishima: *walks into a basement that is supposedly a portal to hell* fuckin’ take me already

so many 'yamaguchi being an angel and tsukishima being a demon for 10 mins' video compilations 

daichi and sugawara

a very chaotic buzzfeed unsolved duo

suga, who is satan’s child himself, and daichi, who needs a raise

daichi: hello everyone! this is daichi,

sugawara: and suga

daichi: and you’re watching...

sugawara: jackass!!

daichi:...buzz...buzzfeed unsolved??

daichi started out being afraid of almost every place he had to walk into but after having to deal with the chaotic mess that is suga for an entire season, he no longer Feels Fear

this is because suga will deadass film a tiktok dance video no matter where he is

daichi: suga, someone was literally axe-murdered there

suga: *dancing along to ‘I’m a Savage’ or whatever that tiktok song is called*

daichi: *at cameraman* do you see what i have to deal with every day?’

suga is only genuinely scared by ghosts when his followers point out that a ghost was caught on camera in one of his tiktok videos

suga: *watching the video*

that was the end of suga’s tiktok career

tanaka and nishinoya:

another bunch of loud bois but they are much louder than kageyama and hinata

they’re very much into proving the existence of cryptids and are most known for that episode they spent hunting bigfoot by dressing up to look like bigfoot

tanaka: ‘you know that thing they do in cartoons where they stack on top of each other under a coat so they look like just one big guy?’

nishinoya: ‘ryuu i love you so fucking much’

other guy there who is also trying to catch bigfoot: oMg ItS bIgFooT *takes picture with the blurriest camera he could find*

both of them are very committed in their investigation of the supernatural and they’re very unconventional approaches

nishinoya: *lying on the ground in a creepy basement* EAT MY HEART DEMONS! WE’LL PUT THE VIDEO ON YOUTUBE!

tanaka: *takes out a spirit board* *spells out O-M-A-E  W-A  M-O  S-H-I-N-D-E-I-R-U*

ghost: *spells out N-A-N-I*

tanaka and nishinoya: *screaming*

kuroo and kenma: 

kuroo deadass flirts with any ghost or demon they encounter and kenma would sleep over in a haunted asylum for ten bucks

kuroo: *sidles up to the infamous annabelle doll* hey there little lady, what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a locked, glass case with a ‘don’t touch’ sign like this?

kenma: kuroo, there’s a demon inside her

kuroo: well, i’m a bit of a demon myself

kenma: she attempted to choke a guy in his sleep

kuroo: oooh, choking. i can get behind that...

kenma: *looks at camera*

the demon in annabelle: d-daddy??

“kuroo flirting with demons and kenma looking at the camera for 5 minutes”

kuroo’s actually a huge fucking scaredy cat and kenma secretly tries to push him over the edge

kenma: *plays computer-generated screams of the damned on his phone*

kuroo: WHAT WAS THAT?

kenma: ...I didn’t hear anything *looks at the camera as if he was on the office and plays the sound again*

kuroo: i was too scared to close my eyes last night

kenma: i was actually able to catch a bunch of pokemon last night. who knew the winchester mansion is such a hotspot

producer: did you catch any evidence of ghosts?

kenma: ...i caught a gastly

bokuto and akaashi:

bokuto is a die-hard mothman fan and akaashi is emotionally involved in proving that ghosts exist he will stop at nothing

akaashi: all of the evidence on the shadow figures and orbs spotted in this place can only suggest one thing...

bokuto: mothman did it

akaashi: no

bokuto: yes

akaashi: mothman is literally five states away

bokuto: he has wings

during their individual investigations, akaashi has already foreseen how bokuto is going to react

producer: it’s been quiet for a while. do you think bokuto’s no longer scared?

akaashi: oh no. he should be screaming right about now...

bokuto, inside the haunted house: *screams and waves his flashlight around*

akaashi:  and then he’s gonna call for help

bokuto: AKAAAAAASHIIIIIIIIII

*few hours later*

bokuto: i saw my life flash before my eyes in there

akaashi: *muttering incoherently near his ‘evidence wall’ full of blurry pictures and red string*

bokuto: i must’ve stared into the abyss at one point

akaashi: this place is fucking haunted. can i go back? it’s for sale right?

ushijima and tendou:

ushijima’s knowledge of ghosts is based on hollywood movies and tendou has exorcised places just by vibing

ushijima: *brings out a pottery wheel* if there are any ghosts in here, you know what to do

he’s actually never watched Ghost he just knows That One Scene

tendou: *naruto-running through the goatman bridge with a go-pro strapped to his head* IT’S MY BRIDGE GOATMAN, IT’S MY BRIDGE!!!

the Goatman Himself: i’ve never felt so fucking scared in my entire fucking life

ushijima believes that chanting in latin will Summon the Ghosts and tendou takes full advantage of that

tendou: *handing ushijima a slip of paper* here, apparently this will summon a full-bodied apparition

ushijima: thanks *begins chanting*

producer, interviewing tendou to the side: okay, what did you make him read this time?

tendou: i typed out ‘let me eat your ass’ in latin on google translate and went from there

cameraman: *zooms in on ushijima chanting*

the ghost haunting the castle: *is confused in French*

in the end neither of them get evidence on ghosts

ushijima: well, we'll have better luck next time

tendou: maybe even revisit this place ?

the ghosts: i know i'm dead but this is the first time i've been scared for my life

[EDIT: for more buzzfeed unsolved au content written by me, check out The Search for the Mysterious Mothman, a headcanon set feat. bokuaka]

[beomglocks]

unlikely allies ; txt x reader

part: one ,, next chapter / previous chapter

plot: when a zombie apocalypse breaks out in your town, you're forced to team up with a group of boys from very different social standards in your school.

genre: fluff, angst, horror i guess?, not really that scary but alright, some funny moments

w/c: 3.6K

warnings: blood, gruesome scenes (kind of really detailed), cursing, everyone hates each other, definitely some major injuries, zombies duh, everyone kinda pining for mc

︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵

he sighs looking at the both of you. "if we wanna make it out of here alive...we're gonna have to fight."

silence. the room was engulfed in silence, save for the growling and moaning of the monsters outside the door. you and yeonjun stared wide-eyed at taehyun who was mirroring your expressions.

"excuse me what?" yeonjun blurted. "we don't even know what those things are and you wanna go out there and risk getting torn to shreds like the nurse? are you crazy?" all you could do was shake your head in fear. you were still shaken up from watching someone get eaten alive.

"s-she...i saw her get eaten and then she just s-stood up? she came back to life somehow?" you questioned out loud. the boys looked at you with fear in their eyes. yeonjun stared at your shaken state and frowned turning to taehyun. "see? if go out there we're gonna die!"

"well do you have any other suggestions? if we stay here we starve to death or something like that, it's better to go out looking for help and finding others before more of them corner us here!" taehyun was making a lot of points right now but going out there? where you just saw a woman die and come back to life? that would happen to you guys if you weren't prepared.

you tried to calm yourself by taking a deep breath, "ok i agree with taehyun...but we need to be really prepared. we may not be capable of murder at this moment but we can take them on enough to get away right?"

taehyun nods but yeonjun just paces around the room anxiously. "you guys are insane. i can't believe i'm gonna die here of all places." you and taehyun watch yeonjun tug at his blonde hair. he suddenly pauses. "i have an idea. what if we don't actually try to take them on." he looked at you both expectedly.

"what do you mean?" you asked. he rolled his eyes, "we could try to just trap them in here and make our escape." taehyun nods at yeonjun's vague plan, "i get what you mean. before we start though we should take some stuff with us. we got lucky that we're in the nurse's office, we can take stuff in case we get injured."

all three of you split up around the office to pick up anything that might be helpful. "its a good thing i brought my bookbag with me," taehyun chuckles dryly. you pack up all the stuff you grabbed and help him zip up the bag. "ok so here's how we'll go forward with the plan."

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

yeonjun sighs shakily as he crouches behind the door. "this was my plan so why do i have to be the one to open the door?!" he angrily whispers to you. you're hiding behind the nurse's desk which is right beside the door, glaring at him, "just shut up and wait for taehyun's cue. if they hear you, we're screwed."

"will you two stop arguing. if anything i'm the one with the risker job," taehyun glares at you both. he's standing in the middle of the office, just a little bit away from the desk. "let's go over the plan just one more time so nothing unexpected happens," he's nervous and you can hear it in his voice. he's trying to act brave like earlier. yeonjun starts, "simple, i open the door letting the monsters in. they won't notice me since i'm crouched below the window." you sigh, continuing, "once the monsters come running in, i pull the stethoscope attached that chair other there as hard as i can. they'll trip over it sending them tumbling."

taehyun takes a deep breath, "and i'll be standing here as bait. once i see that they're both down, that should give me enough time to run out and shut the door on them." yeonjun bites his lip, "i hope this works...my heart is racing seriously."

since taehyun is now visible from the one lamp shining down on him, the monsters outside now have new adrenaline in them, viciously gnawing at the door's window. you don't realize it but you all take a deep breath.

"3″

"2″

"1!"

as soon as taehyun yells, yeonjun swings the door open. the zombies pretty much bum rush through it to get to taehyun as soon as a slither of it was cracked open, effectively managing to swing the door all the way to the wall. you watch it hit yeonjun's arm roughly and flinch. he tries to hold back a gasp and squeezes his eyes shut.

you turn your attention to your task and pull on the stethoscope. thankfully it's stretchy enough to cause the zombies to trip over it. they tumble over each other and skid across the floor. you get up to run out the door and pull yeonjun with you who's clutching his arm.

however, when you look back taehyun is not behind you, instead, he's scrambling to the nurse's closet. apparently you overestimated the recovery time of a simple stumble to the floor. they managed to get up quickly enough to chase after taehyun who thankfully was also quick enough to notice a flawed plan. "shit!" you yell out before you could think. the zombies turn their attention to you and yeonjun who are standing by the door.

they come running at you but you slam the door shut in their faces. great, now taehyun was in there and you both were out here. not to mention, he's the one with all the supplies.

"damn it!" yeonjun kicks the door in frustration. the zombies are tweaking out watching you both from inside the office. thankfully they don't notice the closet door slowly creep open.

taehyun sneaks out of the closet in a painfully slow manner, as to not get detected. he ducks behind the desk, holding his breath. he waits a moment before rising from his hiding spot and hurling a pack of unopened pens at where the cots are located. you watch the zombies whip their heads toward the sound and clamber in that direction. taehyun crawls out from behind the desk and runs toward the door. the lunch lady, who is behind the nurse, notices taehyun and runs toward him and at full blown speed.

your heart is pounding so fast, it genuinely feels like time is going in slow motion. the monster is only like a foot behind the red-haired boy. you throw the door open for taehyun and he launches himself like the outside hallway is home base. you and yeonjun once again slam the door closed on the zombie who face plants into it with a groan.

you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. sliding down to sit on the floor, you glance at taehyun. he's recovering from literally upper body diving out of the room but you figure he's fine since he's used to it from playing baseball so long. yeonjun seems fine too since he's not holding onto his arm anymore.

after a moment, you speak up, "are you ok?" it's not exactly a question directed at either of the two boys. you kind of are just asking yourself that but yeonjun answers anyways, "i think i'm ok, my arm is aching though. the door slammed on me pretty hard but im ok."

taehyun backs himself against the lockers opposite from you too. "i'm fine too." you examine him though you can't see him from the distance and the dimming hallway lights. his face is riddled in sweat and you can kind of see tears running down his face but he notices you staring and harshly wipes them away. he sighs letting his head rest on the lockers.

"i thought that would be easier...i thought i was gonna die back there. thanks for not leaving me," you feel like he means that so you make a noise of acknowledgment. yeonjun also nods at him but doesn't say anything.

it's dead silent in the hallway and you hope it's because the rest of the school is hiding not because they're dead. if you don't think of the circumstances you'd think it's somewhat peaceful.

taehyun breaks the silence, "what if there are other people in here in that same situation." he's not looking at you, he's looking into the abyss of darkness that is your school's hallway. once buzzing with students who you wished would shut the fuck up and move to their next class is now a ghost town. it's eerie and it leaves you with an unsettling feeling just thinking about what hides beyond the darkness.

"fuck no," yeonjun says. he's calm and you hope he doesn't lash out at what taehyun's suggesting. "taehyun..." you mumble. you don't want to say it out loud because you hate how it will sound. well, yeonjun says it for you, "did you hit your head on the way out. you almost died, dude! i know you're having some kind of epiphany about helping others and what not but think about this: those two zombie things aren't the only ones in this school. we could really die in here so we need to get o-"

"shut the fuck up!" taehyun spits. you can tell he's trying not to yell just in case there really are other zombies out here. "do you seriously only care about yourself? what if there really are other people waiting to be helped? we can't just leave them to die in this stupid ass school!" he gets up with some struggle, clutching his wrists again.

"look im not saying you have to help them but it would be really cool if you did...the more people that are alive the more likely we are to survive," with that he starts walking down into the darkness of the hallway. yeonjun scoffs and looks at you. you bite your lip. "i know it's risky...risking our lives for other people but i would feel like shit if i just let people die here while i run off like a coward."

yeonjun watches you run after taehyun. he's now left alone standing outside of the nurse's office. the zombies haven't quieted down and he wonders how much energy they have. he sighs dramatically, running after you both, "hey wait up!"

•·················•·················•

"so where are we headed?" your school isn't that big but it isn't that small either. there are three floors in total but most of the important rooms are on the first floor where you guys are located. taehyun clears his throat, "i was thinking we should get some weapons just in case. the gym's locker room/storage closet is where the team's baseball bats are located, we should be fine against those things if we manage to snag the metal ones."

once he answers you the silence surrounds you three again. you had been walking quite slowly since you didn't know if you'd encounter another zombie soon. it would be better if you could see but the power in the lights seemed to have died out. the school really did feel scarier when the lights were off.

"isn't it still day time outside?" yeonjun randomly asks. now that you think about it, he's right. if you were thinking about the time you took yeonjun to the nurse's office it was around 2 pm. "wait you're right," taehyun stops and turns around. "it was last period when you guys got to the nurse's office."

"damn it, i left my phone in my bookbag," you mumble. you thought it would be a quick trip to the nurse's office so you left it back in the class. yeonjun pats himself down and grumbles, "mine must've fallen out of my pocket during the fight. man, i fucking hate soobin! if i ever see him again he's dead."

you ignore yeonjun and look at taehyun expectantly, "sorry mines dead. i was playing with it while i was waiting for the nurse to come back," he answers sheepishly. you sigh, "we could've called for help since it's not late we could've called our parents or better yet, the police."

"don't worry, i'm sure they'll worry that we aren't coming back from school yet," yeonjun reassures. "i had practice today and my mom doesn't know i broke my wrist so she won't be expecting me home until after practice so i don't think she'll be worried until then."

yeonjun suddenly grabs taehyun's arm. you look at him in alarm because that was really random. this boy has just been full of spontaneous actions lately. "if you had practice today doesn't that mean the team would've been gathered in the gym by now?" a look of realization hits taehyun but he masks it quickly. "they're capable... they wouldn't have been turned into zombies, i'm sure there are some survivors," he sounds like he's trying to convince himself more than you guys.

as you're growing closer to the gym though, taehyun doesn't tell you that he's the best player on the team. he doesn't tell you that none of his other teammates can properly wield a bat. yes, any idiot can hold a bat but to properly swing it for the hit to have an impact takes real practice, practice that his teammates just haven't mastered. he doesn't tell you that he really doesn't think anyone in that gym has survived.

"you hear that?" yeonjun whispers stepping closer to the gym doors. there it goes again, the unmistakable moaning and groaning of the zombies. the sounds are harsher and louder being that there seem to be a lot of people in the gym at once. "damn that must be the team," you mutter. "there's no way anyone in there survived."

"we-we have to try and find out," taehyun tries. you eye him. you really don't think you'll get out of this one alive but you don't tell him that.

"we can cause some kind of distraction like last time," yeonjun suggests. "yeahhh no, im not doing that ever again," taehyun deadpans. "i think he means like what you did with the pens. that seemed to work...i think they react a lot to loud sounds."

there's a moment of silence where you all are just thinking. "your phone!" you turn to taehyun. he raises an eyebrow at you, "it's dead y/n." you shake your head, "look since it's dead and you really won't be needing it, we can just throw it somewhere in the gym. the impact of the phone hitting the wall will alert the zombies and they'll move. then we can maneuver ourselves through the darkness of the gym into the storage room to see if anyone's in there!"

both boys are staring at you with a weird look in their eyes but none of them say what they're really thinking. "that's... actually not a bad idea. the gym is big so there's no way we'll run into one. and since it looks like the lights are off they won't see us if we keep close to the walls," taehyun reiterates.

"ok so let's just get this over with," yeonjun mutters. you look at yeonjun who's staring into the gym, "you didn't have to come with us." you don't wanna sound rude but if he's just gonna complain the whole time then you'd rather be with just taehyun. "yeah right as if i'd venture off on my own in a school full of flesh-eating monsters," he rolls his eyes. "plus i'm the one who comes up with all the good plans, you guys need me."

"whatever," taehyun answers dryly. he's already starting to open the door to the gym, telling you guys that that's your cue to shut up. walking behind yeonjun, who's behind taehyun, you all crouch in a stealthy manner. you wouldn't call yourself the most athletic person but damn, why are your thighs starting to hurt? yeonjun cranes his neck to look back at you and when he sees you struggling to keep up, he slows down.

"what the fuck are you doing?" he whisper-yells. you don't know if the zombies can hear him but that sounded quite loud to you. you glare at him when the groans in the gym increase slightly in volume. "my thighs hurt, just- just leave me alone and tell taehyun to throw the damn phone." you see yeonjun purse his lips but turn to taehyun, telling him to get on with the plan. taehyun looks over to you with confusion and ?concern? written all over his face and all you do is nod at him.

he gets up slightly from his crouched position on the ground, still kind of in a half squat. he lets out a breath, preparing himself to pitch his phone. you watch in awe as you see taehyun get in the zone. you know this is a serious moment and everything but he looks good when he's focused.his eyes are trained on where he's made a mental target to throw to. even in this weird setting of a gym full of zombies of his own teammates, you can see that his breathing is steady.  you wonder why you'd never been to any of the school's home baseball games when you realize that taehyun had somewhat of a cult following. right, just like yeonjun everyone liked him and you just figured it was for nothing or that he was overhyped but you can see why now.

drawing you out of your thoughts was the sound of taehyun's phone crashing against the gym's wall. at the moment in which you were daydreaming about him, he must've thrown it. "ok cmon we gotta hurry, that might not keep them that occupied," taehyun whispers. you turn to look at the zombies which, thankfully, fell for your trick. they were all gathered in the direction where taehyun had thrown his phone. you all rose from your crouched positions and ran the rest of the way to the gym's locker room.

once inside you all let out a breath. "i can't believe that worked," you sigh. "i'm glad it did," yeonjun also sighs. "ok let's go get those bats, once we have them then we might be safe," taehyun leads you both to where he knows they are. walking down the locker room's hallway is even creepier than walking down the normal hallway. there are no windows plus the lights are out so it's even darker in here. once again you're the behind yeonjun who's behind taehyun. you feel uncomfortable and almost feeling like there's an eerie presence behind you. you never liked to be last; the shiver you get through your spine from the mere thought of something following you was weird.

just then you whip your body around but you feel it before you see it. a zombie that must've been in the locker room before you got here hovering over you. you're not sure what happened but it must've flown at you hard enough to knock your body to the ground. it was snapping and snarling in your face trying to get a bite. your eyes were closed but all your other sensed were heightened and you could definitely hear yourself shrieking wildly. you weren't sure what taehyun and yeonjun were doing but you guessed they were standing and staring in shock and horror. you are surely gonna die here.

just then, the back of the zombie's skull was knocked in with so much force that it came out through the front, effectively landing on the upper half of your body and face. just like that, it was no longer trying to devour you, instead, slumping down onto you like a lifeless doll.

you wanted to throw up but you bit it back. you figured the image of you on the floor with blood and a bashed brain spilling out of a once alive human on you was enough. 

the body was thrown off you in an instant and there stood choi beomgyu looking over you with so much concern that you were scared you turned into a zombie and were about to suffer the same fate as the corpse next to you. "oh my god y/n," his eyebrows are furrowed and his mouth is agape. he kneels down to wipe the brain remnants off you but he does it hastily and not that gentle really. you flinch and he pauses, "s-sorry its just that...well i don't know. i didn't think anyone else was alive and then i see you but you're about to get eaten so i mean-." you cut him off with a shaky hand lifted when you realize he's rambling.

he wants to go in to hug you and shout for joy that thankfully his crush- i mean... thankfully you are alive but yeonjun steps in, "dude oh my god y/n, are you okay?" you don't turn around to look at him or taehyun because frankly, you're too shaken up to even stand.

"thank you beomgyu," you whisper the expression and you kind of hope it sounds spiteful towards the other two boys for not really doing anything to help. taehyun looks down and bites his lip and yeonjun just looks at you. beomgyu smiles lightly and helps you stand and when you turn around you see the other two boys flinch at what you look like.

you know you must look horrifying with blood all over you and you want to cry. not because you look absolutely disgusting in front of the two of the most popular boys at your school but because you almost died in front of them. you let out a sob and taehyun steps forward but beomgyu is already ahead of him. "oh y/n... it's ok. look," he wipes your face with his shirt and you feel even worse. "we're alive, you're alive, it's gonna be ok."

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

taglist: @fxd-skz​ (send ask to be added!)

[little-boats-on-a-lake]

Part Fifteen (Part Two)

Potential tw: reference to self harm urges

He just didn't feel like going back to sleep. He doubted he even could if he wanted to. It would be better to just get a start on the day's work.

The weather was starting to change again. The harvest work was almost done. Sunny was so fast at it and she seemed to enjoy it. Except for the corn. They both hated corn.

The little fawn who had broken his leg seemed to enjoy corn. Gently petting the fawn’s head, he cracked a small smile as the tiny creature eagerly nibbled at his hand.

As if it could somehow sense his tension, the fawn stared at him before gently setting his head over the wisps of hair resting on his shoulder and licked at his ear. He giggled, a light and airy sound he doubted actually came from him.

"You're a friendly little one, aren't you?" He leaned against the little deer, feeling a quick heartbeat against his own. "Your leg healed ages ago. So why haven't you gone home yet?"

The fawn walked away from him and knelt down, resting against the soft place he had made for any of the creatures who needed help. It looked at him, as if to say, “What do you mean? I'm right at home."

Something flashed in his eyes as he realized he had never seen Sunny smile before as much as he had over the past month. Yes, he wasn't perfect and yes, he accidentally hurt her but they had both apologized profusely, even though she really didn't need to. Could she grow to love their home together like this little fawn had? A strange giddiness bubbled up in his chest as he imagined a life they could have together. He may not have had many things but he was happy. Maybe the two of them could be happy... together?

He left the fawn in his little shed with a quick scratch behind the ears and hiked back to the center around which his life was centered. And also the pantry. Today was bread day and the sun had only just risen. He may not have loved himself but he sure loved baking bread and that was enough for now.

The way the dough stretched out and wound itself around his fingers was a comfortable and familiar memory. Just like how Sunny would reach out and grab his hand when she dragged him to sleep at night. Not the time for that now-

"Not the time for what?"

He jumped back, arms held defensively in front of his dough. A laughter that chimed like a warm beam of sunshine drew his attention.

“How… how long have you been standing there!?” He didn’t mean to scream. But sometimes, a grown man just needs to scream to defend his bread from evil invaders who come to damage the bread.

It was so adorable when he got flustered like that. Felicity brushed off a small bit of flour that had found its way onto his forehead.

“Relax, silly. I live here too, you know?”

“I… uh, you-“ He stammered, trying to enunciate his words with sticky hands.

“Calm down!” She pushed herself up to sit on top of the edge of the table and leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Wait, what are you-“

“Shhh. I’m tired and your shoulder is comfortable.”

“You- you can’t just!”

“I’m sleeping, you can’t just disturb a sleeping person.” She leaned in towards his neck.

He could feel her warm breath ghosting over his skin. It sent shivers racing down his spine, but a bubbly warmth rose up in his chest again. He thought it was going to rush out in an endless stream of words he wasn’t quite ready to say yet. The only word that came to his mind was yours.

He was. He really was. He wasn’t quite sure what exactly Sunny had done to capture his heart and soul like this, but if she asked for it, he would give it to her. Even if she would probably break it a million times over. He would give her everything he had.

What was it about her smile that made him feel like the world would last another day just because it was so beautiful? Why did every one of her freckles match a beauty he thought belonged only to stars in the endless night sky?He look over at her and he was reminded of how the sharp knife had stopped his breath last night. Where it was sharp, she was soft, sleepy smiles and gripped hands. Where the blade was dangerous, she was a source of comfort, warm nights with warm words and even warmer touches that held them through until the morning. How could he have ever thought the two were the same when they were so different in every way? Her eyes, endless pools of an abyss he could stare into for days, held so much emotion it hurt just to look at it. They quirked up, asking what he was doing, and it felt like the world itself dropped from beneath his feet. What was the world anymore, if he could comp-

“Your hair is getting so long.” She murmured, interrupting his trance. Sunny reached for a particularly long strand and lazily twirled it around her finger. He almost reached for it self-consciously until he remembered the dough covering his fingers. The dough! He was baking bread! Not now, obviously. But he was supposed to be!

He ripped his attention away from her and focused it solely on the bread before him.

It was hard when Sunny was right next to him, entranced by something as mundane as hair and looking like a dream from the heavens. Bread!

“It is getting a bit too long.” He said, desperately hoping his voice wouldn’t betray his heart today.

“I could braid it back if you want?” She suggested and oh, the thought of Sunny focused solely on him, tongue stuck out and eyebrows furrowed, was just a bit too much to handle.

“Uh, ah- I was actually planning to just cut it off.” He lied. Nope, nope, nope. He would most likely combust if she wove her fingers through his hair for something so mundane when he could do it himself.

He pushed the dough aside, finally ready to be baked, and brushed his hair back with his fingers. It was actually getting a little too long for his tastes.

“I guess I probably should trim it a little.” He murmured, eyeing the knife on the table.

He still really didn’t want to touch it.

He was staring at it for an awfully long time. Felicity didn’t miss how he was spacing out. And how his side of the bed was so cold when she woke up. And the way he was so jittery and shaky when she startled him.

“Do you want me to cut your hair?” She offered. He looked at her with wide eyes, as if he couldn’t believe what she was offering. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you look as hot as usual.” She added with a wink, watching the pink creep over his face.

“It- me? It’s really, I mean I don’t thi-“ He stammered.

Sometimes when she was bored, Felicity would imagine how much he would stammer if she kissed him. Probably a lot.

“Come on, there’s better lighting outside.” For such a tall man, he was easily moved. She could drag him and he literally wouldn’t fight back. It was a little concerning sometimes.

She took the dark locks of hair in her hand and poised the knife above her fist.

“Wait! I need to.... uh...” Deep breaths, it was just a little bit of responsibility. She could handle something as small as that. “Wash! I need to wash your hair!”

“Huh?”

“You’re supposed to wash hair before you cut it!”

“I… I suppose?”

“Just… wait there!” Felicity dashed inside and came out with a bucket of water and soap. “Sit over on the porch.” She ordered when he tried to get up and help her.

“You’re so bossy.”

“I am, thanks for noticing.” She sat behind him, slowly working the bubbly lather into his black hair. He leaned into her hands massaging the soap into his hair. Heart, you need to stop racing right now. There was nothing even inherently romantic, this was just so domestic and peaceful. Birds were singing in the trees and he was humming along lightly in harmony. The crisp morning air was starting to warm up enough for rays of light to dapple over them. It was beautiful in a way that never needed to try.

It was perfect.

She rinsed the suds out of his hair and wrung the water out of his hair with oddly skilled ease for someone who had rarely touched anyone else’s hair before. Soon enough, she ran out of things to procrastinate with. Deep breath. It’s going to be okay. It’s just hair.

She picked up the knife and held it firmly in her hands. It was extremely different from a sword. Swords were held towards an opponent, defensively drawn. This needed to be held to the side, working in tandem with her hands and his hair. Gah. The knife was placed firmly behind the hair and she held the hair firmly as the blade cut through the hair.

“I did it…” She mused, the lock of hair shining like a trophy in her hand.

“Why do you sound so shocked?” He laughed, but his smile quickly dropped. “Wait, you have done this before, right?”

“Nope!” Felicity chirped, cutting the hair off right below his neck.

“Wait, hold on-“ He protested before turning his head to look at her. Against the knife. Which was still against his neck.

His hand flew up to where her own had been and came away smeared in red.

“Oh…” His voice wobbled as he stared at the blood on his hand. His jaw twitched and set itself firmly, just like when he had an episode and he tried to pretend he was okay.

“Oh, goddess above, I’m so sorry!” Felicity resisted the urge to scream. It was an extremely unfortunate cut, considering how much blood was running down his neck. It... it was a lot.

“He... here. Hold... hold my hand aga-against the... thing.” His hand flickered with magic, but it was nowhere near his usual steady flame. It was crackling and broken and fizzled out before sparking up again.

“You can’t do it, can you?”

“I can! I just need to focus!”

She pushed his hand away.

“Teach me how to do it.”

“What? Now?”

“Yes. Right now. Teach me healing magic. Or may the Goddess help me, I will set my own hand on fire trying.”

They hadn’t tried anything with magic since what she had dubbed “the incident.” She was too scared of losing control again and he was probably still regretting hitting her with a damn frying pan. She didn’t mind. If anything, she was grateful he found some way to stop her before she hurt him.

“Teach me.” Felicity insisted, panic rising in her voice.

“Foc... focus your fi-fire. It... it pushes out the hu-hurt.”

She took a deep breath, feeling the underlying sensation he described as “fire” and thought of how she wanted to wash away all of the scars she had given him, all of the hurt she had caused.

How much she wanted to hold him and apologize for what she had done.

How much she was sorry.

A warm orange pulse lit up her fingers and drew closer to the fresh blood running down his back. It surged through the wound, healing the cut and barely leaving a scar. The change in his face was so clear, now that she knew what to look for. His jaw relaxed so subtly and his tensed hands unclenched. That little breath of relief he let out. When had she learned his tells and signs so well?

“How was that?”

He turned to look at her, studying her hands. Something about how intensely he looked at her made Felicity’s flutter. Even if it was just her hands. Even if she knew it would never be because she was beautiful. She knew she wasn’t. But a girl could dream.

“That was incredible. I don’t think I’ve ever healed like that.” Oh, and now he was holding her hand as if she was something precious and delicate. Wonderful. “Are you okay? Do you need to take a nap or do you want to have lunch?”

“I’m fine?” That… was an odd question…

“You aren’t tired? At all?”

“No? I actually feel really energized. Like I could run for miles.”

“Curious…”

He looked up at her face and oh, her heart had never felt more fragile. He was just so beautiful, it hurt to look at him in this moment, with the sun glowing behind him and his face filled with gorgeous curiosity. If there was a goddess, she had made him by hand. He was too beautiful to be made from the earth.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“…did you miss the part where you almost bled to death because of me?”

“You’re being dramatic. It wasn’t that bad. And besides, it was mainly my fault.”

“Still.”

“You healed it, didn’t you? That takes a lot of energy. I’d call it even.”

“I wouldn’t.” She pouted. Something by the corner of her eye caught Felicity’s attention. “Hold on.”

“What? You’re just going to get up and leave me here?”

“You big baby, you can get up if you want. But you can’t. Not yet. And close your eyes!”

“And yet I’m the childish one.”

“Shut up.” She threaded the strands through quickly, remembering the familiar rhythm.

“Can I open my eyes now?”

“No, and I said to shut up.” She shot back playfully. She stepped over to the porch and sat beside him, holding her gift with gentle hands.

“Now?” True to his word, his eyes were still shut, but the rest of his face seemed determined to make up for what emotion was lost with his eyes.

“Now.” Felicity almost buzzed with excitement.

“For… for me? You… you made a flower crown? For me?” He stared at the cheerful wild orchids braided together.

“Yep!” She fixed it over his hair, which apparently curled as it dried. Why did he have to be so gorgeously perfect? The bright purple was stark against his black hair and fell over his eyes. He touched it in awe, a blush rising in his face. So adorable. She could adore that look on his face for years, never growing tired of his innate allure.

“And now we’re even. You look wonderful.” But then again, that wasn’t too hard for him. He was eternally wonderful, inside and out.

If you liked this, please remember to like and reblog! Every little bit counts! (And yes, the corn was a reference to @notdingalingalingalingrita’s slideshow fanfiction thing, love ya Charles)

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[shardweavers]

Chapter Fourteen - The Way Forwards

Shoto’s hands paused as she came to the end stages of folding her clothes for travel, her eyes drawn down towards the end of the bed where her big brown pack sat, already half-full…

It seemed impossible that it had only been this morning that the place was half-destroyed, scarred by combat like the war zones of Ala Mhigo. And yet it was spotless, now; everything restored to its proper place, not a sign of damage. She’d expected to have to go to the Crystalline Mean and recruit a whole team of people for repairs, but it seemed their local Ascian had had other ideas; he’d actually come to find her as she was heading there, and indicated that she should instead return to her quarters.

And so she had, and found them in this spotless condition! Shoto had wanted to thank Emet-Selch, but he’d sauntered off before she could speak a word, leaving her flummoxed--she’d taken up packing to occupy her scattered thoughts. He’d soon be back from wherever he’d been headed to, she reasoned; it was  he  who’d been insistent on joining the party, in the name of “keeping them out of trouble.” Ha! As though he wasn’t the cause of it!

She felt a brief flare of amusement, but it was rapidly chased away by recriminations that made her sigh, ceasing to fold the clothes and putting her chin against her fist. Everything that emotionally surrounded the Ascian was so Twelve-damned complicated.

It didn’t help that the idea of traveling with him brought up memories of the first time he’d accompanied them around Norvrandt--the odd intimacy she’d felt with him, even then, the closeness. The fury at his betrayal, a betrayal that hurt her so much more than it seemed to affect any of her friends and compatriots. And then, that moment, in the ashes of Amaurot at the bottom of the sea--

“Remember us. Remember that we once lived.”

Just thinking about it made tears come to her eyes, and she only half-understood why, even now. 

Because I’m like her, like Azem…

...Every time she thought that, it felt like she was so close to a memory and yet so far, like she had a puzzle in her mind very nearly solved, but the last piece was missing and no amount of scrounging could find it. It was maddening. 

Bah. Now’s not the time, the others will be waiting for me.   She finished cramming everything into the pack and fastened it up, buckling the straps that held it shut tight, then hoisted it onto her back and headed out of the room. Just outside, Sumire was leaning against a railing; when the Dragoon saw her, his ears flicked to alertness, and heterochromatic eyes met hers.

Shoto had to admit, she was a little surprised. “Hey! Is it just you, or is Yuki about…?”

“She’s not,” Sumire sighed, and the intense regret in his voice, the lilt of sadness, only served to increase Shoto’s level of flummoxed-ness. If she had previously been at “the moogles of Ishgard want a diplomatic liaison to the Twelveswood,” she was now at “the moogles of Ishgard want a diplomatic liaison with Feo Uhl, and it has to be a kobold for some reason.”

The confusion showed on her face readily enough that Sumire practically leapt to attention, waving off her concern with both hands. “Er, that is to say, she’s not ready yet! She’s still getting ready! She went for a walk to clear her head, and refocus, after that business this morning, with the Ascian, and the fight, and such!”

Shoto was absolutely certain that there was more to this; she was so certain she would’ve bet an exorbitant amount of gil, but her Scholar’s intuition said to leave well enough alone, at least for now. “Well, that’s alright, then. Um, do you want to wait for her? I can meet you both at the Exarch’s Gate when she is ready, there’s no rush.” Sumire flushed. “I-I promise, we’ll be right behind you, just…” Shoto smiled and shook her head. “Like I said,  no rush.”

* * *

Where Hades had gotten to was a tall tree near the gate of the Crystarium, where he sat beneath a curtain of lavender-colored leaves, his back nestled against the trunk quite comfortably, to the point the Ascian might be tempted to doze off.

He was certain the Warriors would find him soon enough; their suspicious natures wouldn’t let him go unsupervised for long, of course. Let them hurry to bundle up their things; it gave him time for contemplation, time alone with his thoughts, that he sorely needed.

First, and paramount, he had to process how far and how fast this...eighth Rejoining was coming along, for them. Every single one of them was taking to their shards with a speed and natural attachment that shouldn’t have been possible. It should’ve required a monumental effort, the fuel that a Calamity brought; everything the Ascians had learned said as much.

...How were they this far along, simply by linking themselves to the ghosts of this land’s heroes? 

By Zodiark, they were using creation magic! He’d managed to keep himself calm and collected while dealing with them because he didn’t want to show his shock. His fellow Paragons of the Red, all members of the Convocation, had taken years to regain that power…!

Second, of course, there was--once again--the issue of her.

...Of Shoto, he mentally corrected himself. 

...It felt strange, didn’t it? To call her by her name? 

For so long, he’d thought of her as just Warrior of Light , as that Warrior of Light, their leader, the prime amongst them with the soul that shone the brightest and with a troublingly familiar golden color. The Hero. 

She’d told him her name, then, of course, but…It hadn’t seemed important, at the time. 

Indeed, the familiar color of her soul made her company, frankly, difficult, because when he looked, and he couldn’t stop from looking, he remembered what he’d lost. He ceased to be here, on the First, and he was in Amaurot again. It was the Final Days, again, and he was desperately promising Persephone-- I’ll protect you. Always.

His last oath. His greatest failure.

Being around her cut his soul to the metaphysical bone, back then. Just short conversations had made him feel a combination of longing and hatred so intense he thought he’d go mad. The moment he had an opportunity to betray her, to taunt her, to assume the role of the villain, had almost been a relief.

...So…

Why was it so different now? Her presence now was...almost friendly. Comforting. The glow of her soul was like a familiar lamp, a lantern that imitated the sun, but not to mock; rather to pay homage. He’d been telling himself it was gratitude for her selfless acts on his behalf, but…

He’d lived a thousand years and more, witnessed eras rise and fall. This wasn’t something so simple. He was Emet-Selch, the Angel of Truth, with all that that implied; he could not be deceived, even by himself. There was something deeper, some root to their connection. It would be so simple if I believed she was…

But that’s ridiculous. I’d know, he reasoned with himself. His beloved, his Azem, would have known better than to trust in the world-shattering Mother, ever--not that he judged Shoto for it, necessarily. And wasn’t that proof she was a different person? Moreover, if he’d antagonized Persephone the way he’d antagonized Shoto, he could never forgive himself. Obviously.

...It was still so strange, though. 

How soul-wrenching it had been to walk beside her before, and how nice it seemed now. It was almost freeing to even think her name-- Shoto. Shoto. Shoto.

A response came back to him, confused and rather harried. “Emet-Selch…?”

The Ascian leapt up and almost hit his head on a low-hanging tree branch. 

Zodiark’s actual wings of shadow damn it, how had he forgotten--if he could hear her thoughts, she could hear his! 

“Is something wrong?”  he felt her think, and he hastily shook his head, pushing his bangs out of his face and straightening his garments.

“No! Nothing’s amiss, good hero! I am completely fine! I was...extremely...bored.” He tried to radiate the appropriate level of detachedness. “Had you and yours taken any longer, I might’ve fallen asleep against this tree.”

Exasperation radiated from her, but there was an odd warmth to it, like he could feel her roll her eyes. It was…kind of cute.

...He managed to shield this thought from her and also to drop it down a metaphorical abyss forever. 

“Well, we’re here now. Look to your right.”

And there, indeed, she was, radiating that warm yellow-orange color off her, her soul dancing like tamed fire; he couldn’t help but smile as she approached, though he let it slip to his usual smirk as her companions followed close behind--the Dragoon and the Summoner. The Viera folded her arms and her lips curled into a small frown as she saw him. “I’m surprised,” Yuki grumbled. “I would’ve thought you’d dismiss yourself and teleport away to Eulmore to do whatever it is you want there, by now.”

“My dear,” Hades replied breezily, “I have no need to deceive any of you, as I thought you understood. I said my intention was to travel with you, and keep your leader here from any...reckless acts, and so I’m going to do that.”

The Viera gave an angry “hmph!” and looked away; the Ascian merely hefted his bag with a shrug. Shoto blinked as she realized he wasn’t wearing his normal, regal attire of a Garlean Emperor, but rather a long, black robe appropriate for a mage of rank, with metallic trim that put one in the mind of dark steel rather than silver; it had two pauldrons that were practically an afterthought, white-gold utility belts that held a variety of small items, and a massive cowl that looked like a gigantic religious collar when it was down, trimmed with fur. 

...It was simplistic, but it fit him; in fact, he looked quite good in it, a thought the Ascian caught and allowed himself a slightly saucy smirk to. “I do hope my new attire is appropriate? I felt that traipsing about looking the part of Imperator might be a little gauche, given our destination and the Leveilleur boy’s delicate sensibilities.” Shoto couldn’t help but blush. “It’s, it’s nice. It’s quite appropriate, yes, and probably better than explaining the glory of Garlemald to everyone you meet.” “Dear hero, that would get boring for me, too! I’d mix it up,” he teased. “I’d talk about the glory of Allag, too, and there’s a lot more material there.”

...This conversation had deepened Yuki’s frown to a “seething” level, which Sumire took notice of and loudly cleared his throat, interrupting. “While we’re on the road,” he put in, “I...I know it’s early days, but I’m still curious about the basic concepts of this...Creation Magic.”

Emet-Selch gave the Dragoon a mildly nonplussed look, shrugging. 

“It is, as I tried to emphasize before, chiefly a matter of focus and will. You have to hold the image and the structure in your mind’s eye, consistently, and channel the aether towards the end of willing it into being--not requesting it to be, willing it to be.” He lifted one hand, clasping it into a fist, and paused for a moment, a shadowy aura swirling around him as he concentrated visibly; when he unfurled his fingers, a small white blossom was in his palm, which blew away into petals in a breeze.

Sumire cocked his head to the side, nodding and biting his lip, unsure quite how to respond; Yuki, for her part, half-audibly scoffed.

So it’s just that simple, huh?

Fine. She could do that much, the Summoner reasoned; closing her eyes, she called her own aether around her, the world seeming to flex and seethe with its glowing aura. She cupped her hands and stood there. 

...And stood there.

...Her brow furrowed tighter and her grimace deepened. 

What am I thinking…?

This is just...just childish nonsense! It’s the Ascian’s version of a prank! It’s foolishness!

Her concentration finally broke and she dismissed her aether when she heard the Paragon chuckle, her expression furious. “Th-this is ridiculous! I didn’t feel even the slightest ripple of actual magic, you--!”

Hades couldn’t help his smirk, though he did try to cover it, to his credit. “Well, I did say it was chiefly about those virtues, my good Viera--it also has to do with the center of one’s focus, with what feels most natural to you. A sort of creative paradigm or talent, unique to you and connected to your soul; in Amaurot it was something everyone came to by intuition. Alas, less so in these shattered worlds.”

Sumire’s ears flicked; he remained silent, but he looked even more thoughtful than before; this much was actually a familiar concept to him, a legitimate one. He’d had to learn how to use the aether to “see” with his right eye, after the Dravanian attack on his home--it wasn’t something you could force, you had to naturally let the aether flow into the eye and follow what it sensed. At first, the sensation had been totally alien, but once he learned to relax and incorporate it, it was second nature.

...So everyone had a separate focus, then? I wonder what mine would even be …

Concentrating on the idea for more than a moment, though, nearly made him nod off where he was standing, a huge wave of sudden tiredness washing over his body. He shook his head violently, even as another breeze blew over the group.

Better consider that later.

Shoto, finally, who’d been absorbing the conversation herself, had also closed her eyes, but the Scholar was recalling the moment of an errant flower’s arrival in the vase. How it had looked, how it had smelled, the shape of its blossom and its stem. She imagined its rootwork...the bright red of the petals, so vibrant, like flame. The softness of its round leaves…

She felt the sudden urge to flick her wrist outward, and didn’t stop herself, caught up in the moment and remembering in the back of her mind what Hades had just said about the focus coming naturally…

Her aether swirled, spiked, crackled. She heard her fairies shout tinny alarums as her eyes opened…

A flower’s thin stem had burst from the earth in front of her, with familiar flame-red petals, still emitting a golden wisp of aether. As her concentration broke, it dissipated, but it left all four of them staring in awe, before Emet-Selch’s face became a genuine smile, applauding.

“You see? Not a completed creation, not solidly anchored, but a fine attempt! Well done, my dear.” Shoto’s cheeks burned in a blush, but she couldn’t help her own small smile of pride, and Sumire looked impressed, applauding a little himself; Yuki crossed her arms and bit her lip, turning away slightly, though she too looked almost amazed.

“Th-thanks,” Shoto said. “I feel a little...light-headed, though…”

“Keep in mind that it  does  draw on your aether, though,” Emet-Selch reminded her, not unkindly. “And as yours is already depleted, further practice should, potentially, wait...but for a first conscious attempt, it was quite impressive. Why, we’ll be progressing to advanced lessons in no time.”

Shoto’s cheeks got even redder, and yet...her smile didn’t leave, and something in her felt warm at the praise. “B-be that as it may, we’ll have to explain those lessons to Alphinaud before long. Let’s get going, it’s nearly midday!”

* * *

Nearly a bell passed in silence as the group made their way towards Sullen. 

Emet-Selch had ended up in the lead of the party, entirely by accident; perhaps it was some quirk of Ascian bodies, as the Angel of Truth seemed not to tire at all with each yalm, and his strides were quite long. Behind him followed Sumire, whose training under the watchful eye of the Holy See had served him well athletically...and then was Shoto, who was valiantly trying to keep up, despite being visibly drained. Yuki brought up the rear, mostly to keep watch over her struggling friend...and also due to her own foul mood, expressed in haphazard kicks to the ground as she went, errant stones tumbling into the Lakeland weeds.

The Viera kept her eyes on the two men in front of them...well, the man and the Ascian. She was glad that Sumire hadn’t inquired further into her...admitted overreaction from earlier, and that he seemed to be his usual self. That was good. They could put all that silliness behind them, where it belonged, and where it would definitely never bother her again, no sir.

...Never. Bother. Her. Again.

Her eyes on Emet-Selch, of course, were for totally separate reasons involving her completely justified suspicion. He was nothing but trouble, and that little...light show with the flowers had only solidified that notion. She knew he was up to something. She couldn’t figure it out with the evidence she had now, but she knew it in her bones.

So she’d watch, and wait, and when he slipped up she’d call down the wrath of every elemental force she knew a name for on his head.

Her general seething was interrupted as Shoto nearly tripped over a larger-than-usual rock and swayed under the weight of her pack, grimacing and trying to re-hoist it with obvious difficulty, but it looked like without help she’d fall over. She was valiantly attempting to stay balanced when Sumire almost leapt back to her, gently taking the pack in his hands.

“Shoto? If you'd like, I could help carry your pack for now?”

A sad, half-smile appeared on her face, she was not about to argue, as she knew her strength was waning. She really had taken too much of a risk with her aether; she felt so drained, so weary. 

Emet-Selch had stopped as Shoto almost tripped, too--he looked like he’d been going to render aid, but Sumire had got to her side first, and so the Ascian simply observed with crossed arms and a carefully neutral expression, trying to focus on her aetheric levels and making sure they were still safe. For the moment, they seemed so.

As Sumire hoisted the pack, a small piece of dark fabric fell from it; caught by the wind, it nearly fluttered off to become lost in Lakeland, but Yuki saw it and snatched it out of the air before this could occur. Neither of the Miqo’te seemed to notice.

Yuki looked curiously over the fabric. It had originally been quite richly woven, made of some rarefied fabric, but it had become a little threadbare; Shoto must’ve kept it with her throughout her travels. A keepsake of some kind? 

She tilted her head as she examined the image on it; the sigil of a crimson unicorn’s head, lined with gold, surmounting some sort of laurel wreath, it looked like, in the same colors. It looked like the heraldry of some noble family...a High House of Ishgard, perhaps? She vaguely remembered a familiar description from one of Sumire’s tales. She shoved it into her pocket; this had to be returned to Shoto at the earliest possible opportunity.

* * *

They had nearly made it to the Source’s edge, and the docks of the Weed were within sight, when Yuki got her opportunity; Shoto, even without her burden, had paused in the middle of the road, bent over, her hands on her knees and her breathing labored. 

Sumire looked back at their friend with concern, and Hades practically went over to hover at her side. 

“Perhaps... we should... take a short break...?” the Dragoon ventured. 

“I’m sorry.” Shoto huffed before she found a spot to sit; atop a nearby rock. Yuki sat down beside her, biting her lip.

“Are you sure you're alright? We could've waited in the Crystarium for at least another day.” The Scholar simply shook her head, “No, I'll not hold us back.”

“Shoto…” Yuki sighed and shook her head, but she supposed there was no point now. “Alright. Oh, though, before I forget any longer, this is yours--it fell from your pack when Sumire was picking it up.” Her eyes met Shoto’s as she pulled the fabric out and laid it in the Scholar’s hand. “It looked as though it might be important…?”

Shoto gasped audibly when she saw what it was, and quickly took the fabric, holding it to her chest as she closed her eyes tightly; Emet-Selch blinked as he felt the swirl of emotions the keepsake raised in her, the sudden wave of feeling enough to even bowl over the Ascian, emotionally speaking. Longing...nostalgia...grief...It was almost an echo of when he thought too hard about Persephone.

“...Thank you,” Shoto managed after a moment. “If I lost this, I’d never have forgiven myself...I’ll be more careful from now on.”

Though he wanted to comfort her, the keepsake piqued the Ascian’s curiosity to a point that he almost craned his neck to see the item, like the shoebill he’d disguised himself as. “What is it, exactly? If you don’t mind my asking, of course.”

Shoto’s smile in reply was sad enough he almost regretted the question. “Ah. It was a memento from a dear friend of mine...One I’ve not forgotten.” She unfurled the fabric almost shyly, letting them see. Though Yuki looked no wiser, Emet-Selch’s eyes went a little wide in recognition, and Sumire actually gasped himself.

“That’s a High House’s symbol,” the Dragoon said. “If I remember...House Fortemps’, isn’t it?”

Shoto nodded, silently.

Yuki blinked and looked to the Dragoon with a light smile. “Well, that’s wonderful, isn’t it? Maybe we can go visit them, soon, and you and Sumire can make introductions.” 

“W-well, hold on, I’d need introducing too! I never knew you were a friend of--,” Sumire began, but then his voice died, along with Yuki’s smile, as they saw the tears in the corners of Shoto’s eyes.

“Heh. ...I...I think he would’ve liked that, but…”

Yuki bit her lip as the realization overtook her. It wasn’t that Shoto hadn’t seen this friend in some time; rather, if they visited, all they’d be visiting was a gravestone.

“...I’m sorry,” she said, laying a gentle hand on Shoto’s shoulder.

“You couldn’t have known,” the Scholar said, shaking her head, but Emet-Selch interrupted with a soft question.

“...What was his name?”

Shoto blinked, surprised at the identity of the questioner. “...Haurchefant. Haurchefant Greystone, of House Fortemps.”

Sumire gave a slightly sad smile of his own. “Ah. Lord Haurchefant of the Silver Fuller...I met him, once, I think. He was...larger than life, I recall.”

Shoto couldn’t help but giggle. “Y-yes, yes. He was...very extravagant, I’d call it, but in a wonderful way.” A memory of the Elezen’s excited cry upon meeting her at Camp Dragonhead crossed her mind, and she couldn’t help but smile broadly. How she missed him; his excitable nature, his infectious smile, the way he called things “splendid!” that was quintessential to him... 

...How he’d gazed at her and her alone, the lilt in his voice when he’d told her how tempting her well-trained body was, resurfaced as well, to the point she had to shake her head violently to clear it.

...Was it her imagination, or had that last thought made Emet-Selch look jealous??

“I think,” the Ascian said with gravity and import, his face smoothly melting back to his more neutral, world-weary affect, but his voice surprisingly kind, “that it’s only natural you treasure his memory. Never regret that, hero.” He cleared his throat. “However, if you truly mean to reach Kholusia before nightfall, perhaps we should make it to the ferry sooner, rather than later.”

Shoto, beet red, nodded and all but sprang up. “Y-yes! Let’s keep going. I’m rested, now, and besides, the boat isn’t far.”

...Something about how fast she sprang up almost made the Ascian feel a bit guilty.

...Surely he hadn’t projected any odd feelings about her...feelings…

Whatever. He could make up for it later!

* * *

It was, indeed, not even half a bell more before they found themselves on the creaking planks of the Weed’s plentiful docks, seeking after the ferry to Kholusia; as they made their way over the first bridge, Shoto noticed a grizzled old Hume who looked to be taking inventory rather than hauling in fish, and waved for his attention. “Ah, excuse me!”

The grizzled old fellow blinked and looked up from his writing, brow wrinkling in confusion at the party of travelers before him; his confused expression only served to pronounce a scar across his nose and left cheek, his dark brown eyes searching them.

“Eh? What business do I have with ye, lass?”

Emet-Selch unconsciously bristled beneath his large cowl, though the hood shrouded his face and hid his scowling expression from the Hume; Shoto, for her part, gave an apologetic smile. “Sorry to bother you, but...we’re seeking a ferry to Kholusia, and we’re hoping you could point us in the right direction.”

The old Hume’s look became more affable, and he nodded. “It’ll be Dadfort ye’re wanting, aye; he sails th’ route ‘twixt here and Stilltide, from time to time.” “Wonderful!” said Shoto brightly. “Can you tell us where to find him?”

“He frequents a li’l tavern on Brick, th’ Drunken Eel. This time o’ day he’ll be out front, probably nursin’ his first pint and still lookin’ for custom. Look fer the big Galdjent with th’ white hair.”

The Scholar bowed in thanks, and the group hurried over the next bridge, departing Weed for Brick and finding, after peering at the signs of several taverns, the Drunken Eel; indeed, under the signpost of the establishment, leaning against a wall, was a massive Galdjent fellow with slate-grey skin and white hair.

Silently, Hades wondered what Shoto planned to do about the gap between Stilltide and Eulmore, a gap that would take them nearly as long as the walk here, and that was if things went well. The Crystarium’s soldiers had done a fine job of keeping most beasts and errant, remaining sin eaters from encroaching on the road, but he knew Kholusia to be much wilder, given its prior ruler’s...proclivities.

“Hello,” Shoto greeted the Galdjent. “We’re looking for Dadfort, are you--”

“Aye, I’m he,” the oversized fellow said, grunting a little as he pushed himself up from the wall. “I suppose your party here is lookin’ for passage?”

“Yes,” said Shoto. “We’re bound for Kholusia. I know you usually only go as far as Stilltide, but we’re hoping to hire you for a trip to Eulmore.”

Ah, so that was what she planned to do about it. Unfortunately, the very name of the city made the Galdjent’s expression darken and his arms crossed. “Nothing doing, then. You want a different vessel, and like as not a different port. I only sail to Stilltide.”

Shoto’s face fell. “But…”

“We might be at peace,” Dadfort said, “and aye, there’s rumors enough that Vauthry’s dead and gone, and the aristos have repented of their ways. And here’s what I say--it’s all sin eater’s dung.” He spat on the docks to his side. “If ye want passage to Stilltide, then I go there and not a yalm further.”

“Is there really no way we might change your mind?” It was Hades who said this, his voice almost a purr. Dadfort’s eyes narrowed, but the Ascian went on smoothly.

“You see, the dear young scholar here is quite frail of body and we know that the Eulmorans haven’t quite cleared up the roads. If you could stop at Eulmore’s docks, for just a moment, it would do us a service we’ll well remember. And you’ll be quite fairly compensated,” he added. A coin pouch was suddenly in Dadfort’s hand, and judging by the big man’s expression, it was quite weighty. 

“...I’m not stayin’ a second more than I have to, nor lettin’ ‘em write my ship’s name on no cursed rich man’s roster, y’hear? And I won’t be takin’ ye back. Find other passage to return.”

“Not a problem at all, my good man,” Emet-Selch replied, bowing amiably. Dadfort chewed his lip, but then pocketed the coin pouch and cracked his knuckles, and extended a hand to the Angel of Truth, who shook it firmly.

“Deal’s made, then. Meet me at th’ docks in fifteen. My ship’s th’ Ondo Princess, ye can’t miss her.”

And off he went, leaving the group almost shocked. Shoto looked at him both gratefully and at a loss for words.

“So you’re a businessman, as well as an emperor?” she offered. 

Emet-Selch merely laughed, pushing his hair back, and allowed himself a triumphant grin.

“Oh, there’s much you don’t know about me yet, my dear hero.”

_________________________________________________________ Writers’ Note: Hope you enjoy the new chapter and Thank you for your support! We will have a new chapter of  “In the Tower’s Reflection” as well!

[boogaloomagoo]

Date: 2/24/2020

Setting: Trudeau household

Characters: Margot and August Trudeau

Notes: Margot and her father have a heart to heart; much is conveyed without actually being spoken.

"Dad... I just want you to know that I care about you-- No, no he already knows that, what's the point in saying it again?... Okay, um - Dad, it's been a while since we've talked about this... and I know you don't like bringing it up around this time of year, but... but..." The blonde's eyes slipped shut, tight with obvious frustration in her furrowed brow, and she flopped unceremoniously onto the worn-in couch nestled in their living room. "But I... have no idea what I'm doing," How? How was she supposed to bring this up casually? The conversation with Josephine had helped a bit, but for the most part Margot still felt entirely unprepared in how to address the issue as a whole. Twenty minutes of sinking into the couch had passed before her father finally returned home from his first shift at Alain's garage. "Magoo?" "In here, dad," She hollered from the living room, attempting to fix her features into something that resembled a welcoming, peaceful expression rather than the inner turmoil broiling within. When he entered and flopped down beside her, jostling the couch frame just a bit with his large stature, an arm immediately curled around her shoulders. "Hey, sweet pea," For a while, they talked about his day; Margot was off from her own job, which meant she could focus entirely on her father’s. So far, he liked what he was doing, seemed to get along with most of the staff, etc. Good. This was starting off good. Though after a few more exchanges, he wore a skeptical expression, as if sensing just what she was attempting to conceal the entire conversation, and he finally inquired. "So... What's goin' on in that head of yours?" Nothing. Everything? Did it ever stop going, around and around like a malfunctioning carousel that had lost any and all semblance of fun and merriment; the horses snarled as their nostrils flared in anger, painted eyes crimson fire that raged as their hooves stampeded ceaselessly. 'Round, 'round and 'round it goes, where it stops?... Her words began slow, even - paced from myriads of time running this exact conversation through her head. "I've just... been thinking about some stuff. A lot of stuff, actually, but-- the main one is about us. About you," She expected the crease between his brows, the way his lips quirked off to the side - such in the same manner her own did when contemplating what another person was saying or explaining. "Okay. What about us -- or me?" Take it slow and steady, she reminded herself. Ease into it but don't beat around the bush. Just be honest, upfront, but gentle. How did all of these methods somehow coincide to actually breach a subject cohesively? It felt as though her brain would implode from employing even one, let alone all. The blonde took a deep inhale through her nose, allowing the oxygen to flow in and held it one beat, two; exhale. "I know it's been hard. Settling in here. But, I hoped getting the job might help both of us... and I'm so glad you like it," She paused there to give something of a wilted smile in his face, and her fingers found purchase atop his knee, gently squeezing. "You're meeting new people, getting more comfortable. And I know that's hard for you, and me, but, we're doing okay. Like, genuinely okay... and I'd also like to try something else. To help us both start to feel like we can... actually find a home here, y'know?" The mild confusion in his expression would have served to heighten her anxiety, but there was a nod, a well-meaning tint to his eyes as he attempted to understand better. Well, no going back now, was there? "I'd like us to go to family therapy. For... for some closure," She had hesitated, due to her father's body tensing at the mention of the 'T' word. An unspoken agreement had been enacted between them years ago, that Margot shouldn't bring it up whatsoever because it wasn't necessary. He had no issues for whatever help she sought for herself, had even accompanied her on a few visits as a child with a guidance counselor. But whenever the subject shifted to focus on his own needs and status, it was hitting a re-enforced concrete wall. No budging. And if he resigned himself to being the immovable object, then, she would simply have to become the unstoppable force. "Margot..." The rejection seemed ready to roll off his tongue; but she wouldn't take it this time. Not without making her case clear. "Dad, I know how you feel about it. I do. And I respected that you wanted to deal with things your own way - I haven't brought this up in over six years, and in all that time, I still see you falling into the same routine you said you wouldn't," Meandering around the house, in a stupor of some sort - inhabiting the spaces they shared as a partial ghost, sometimes fully content to haunt the corridors and hallways. While all she could do was gently tug and nudge him around, hoping he might resurface from the depths of grey murk he seemed far too resigned to sink beneath on a daily basis. "Getting the job is an amazing start. But this isn't just about you, like I said -- it's for both of us," The blonde staved off a broken sigh, edging forward onto the couch and clasping both hands between her knees. Her heart never seemed to weigh heavier than it did when thinking about her - but it was unavoidable, and that was the point. They needed to think about it, right? That was the point to moving forward? "I try being positive. Every day, I would force myself to smile and face the day like I... I feel she would have wanted me to. But, lately... ever since we moved here, I-I haven't felt like I need to do that anymore," Didn't want to. Fingers rose to touch her forehead, automatically settling upon the divot between her brows. An ache almost always settled there whenever stress was involved, and now was no exception. "I've done it because I feel like I've had to. That if I didn't smile and act happy, that we'd both just fall into this abyss... this cycle of milling around and feeling sorry for ourselves. And I think that's because we just-- haven't talked about it. We run, and run, and for a while we're okay, but then we just start it all over again, and, I-I don't want to run anymore - not from anything," Her gaze, glazed over with unshod tears, settled on his worn features, lower lip trembling. "We deserve to live, dad. And I think that means settling, getting to know people, making new memories... letting ourselves properly grieve. Not forget, but..." Let go. She couldn't say it, though. He might react badly to that wording, and with the ache of tears swallowing up every other sense and reaction, she didn't know any other way to phrase it. Thank whatever deity that might have taken favor upon them that her father wasn't a thick man. Their very nature stemmed from being able to communicate multiple ways - talking was only one of them. When he removed his arm from around her, there was a sudden coldness that threatened to slide it's bony finger along her spine. But it was quickly replaced with the warmth of large, warped but tender palms encompassing her own. He had knelt down in front of her, gaze locked onto their clasped hands. "I never meant to... All these years, I thought I was doing the right thing. Keep us moving, keep us safe -- that was the priority," Margot felt herself grow weak, wanting to argue that he had done as good a job as possible, better than she could have ever accomplished herself. But he finally peered up at her through thick brows, and her weakness reflected in the tremor of his own lips. "I robbed you of so much, growing up. A normal childhood. Adulthood... and I've been making you pay the price for something that was never your fault," "Dad..." Her voice broke, trails of saline finally trickling down her cheeks, head swaying from side to side. "You never have to apologize for... for wanting to keep me safe. Please, don't ever feel like I'll resent you or hate you for it, I... I understand," Seeing his only child weep was enough to bring a moisture to his own gaze, hazel glistening as he nodded, stilted yet insistent. "I will, though. I'll always be sorry. And you're right - I never wanted to admit it before, it... always felt like admitting I was a failure. That that kind of help meant I had failed you, and your..." His voice cracked on the word he couldn't bring himself to say, one hand removed to pinch the bridge of his nose as large shoulders shook with a whimper. Margot had lowered herself to his level in an instant, arms wrapped around his torso and face buried into the crook of his neck. They had fallen apart so many times, in such a similar fashion; tears, an embrace, apologies for wrongs they hadn't truly committed and yet could never settle right within them. They were broken in every sense of the word, but in these moments, strange as it seemed, letting the sadness flow remained one of the few times Margot felt truly whole. Alive. His palm curved into the threads of her hair, gently cradling her head and petting the locks. An attempt to calm them both down as the wave of emotions ran it's course. When he spoke again, his voice warped by the strain born from sobbing, Margot felt her heart swell. "We'll go together. I can't... promise that it'll be easy for me. But I'll be damned if I won't try, okay?" She nodded, tear-stained cheeks smothered against his warm neck. "That's all I ask. I'll be with you every step of the way. I promise," His head bobbed a few times in succession, the determination seemingly surging between them, strengthening them both. Words were intriguing, useful things; but touch... the embrace of a loved one. It would always remain a language far preferred by the Trudeau's.

[elliemarchetti]

A Red Lover part 8

In the beginning the chapter was born to be longer, but when I realized that it would become practically a novel, I decided to break it in two, so let's say that this could be considered as chapter 8 part one. @chaoslaborantin a thousand times thank you for the wonderful comment to the previous chapter and for your support. I hope you like the first, short court meeting between Thomas and Mare. 

Previous chapters here 

Words count: 2092

Thomas hadn’t seen Maven for thirty-four days. Every day, with a fork, he engraved a notch on the skirting next to the bed, to keep track of the passing time. It was nice to leave a mark, to cause a little damage to the golden prison, comfortable and well furnished,   where Maven had thrown him, apparently forgetting about his existence. His Reds jailer didn’t mind; they probably hated that place too. Yet they continued to serve here, to remain silent, to keep their position, seated for six hours on either side of the door like living-eyed statues. None of them had ever returned, and Thomas wondered what Maven did of those he sent to check on him. Did he kill them? It wouldn’t make sense. He probably replaced them for fear that they would pity him. But in their eyes, he didn’t read any kind of feeling. What lie was told to them? Thomas didn’t really want to know. In any case, no lie could have been worse than reality. He was a killer, and he hadn’t killed in war, to defend himself, when the choice was to kill or be killed. He had deliberately enjoyed seeing the body of that witch burn in the flames; his spirit had risen to new life at the sound of those screams. He had become a monster, just like Maven, just like the one he despised so much. Or maybe the choice not to use someone else for his own purposes made him better? These were questions that he had no answer to and that he didn’t intend to pose to his jailers.

Sometimes he still dreamed of Maven. Nothing too articulate, just flashes of his face, his dark hair, his broken promises of love. There were no mirrors, not even in the bathroom, but Thomas knew that imprisonment and silence were ruining him: he could feel his face dug day after day, making him a ghost of who he had been; he could see the bones under his skin, more angular than ever. Despite the poor food, when he was at the front he was healthier. Even at the time he was in a cage, but it was a larger prison.

He hadn’t much to do, except to sleep or read a few tomes that he could hardly understand, yet for a few days he had been seized by unbearable fatigue. Perhaps he was ill, even if he couldn’t understand how. Perhaps they were slowly poisoning him. Perhaps he was becoming paranoid. And yet, at the dawn of the thirty-fifth day, he turned away the breakfast plate without even touching it, despite the sugary cereals, the fruit and toast tempted him.

"Finished," he announced, speaking for the first time in thirty-two days. His voice’s sound was strange, not the same with which he articulated his thoughts and not even what he remembered from his dreams; it looked like a child's, ridiculous and flickering. He felt pathetic, but it had to be just what Maven wanted, so he threw away the thought.

One of his jailers, two women had come over that turn, took the tray, looking at the untouched meal in disarray. It was the first emotion he saw on someone's face and it almost moved him, as well as investing him with a wave of pride: he wasn’t going crazy; Maven was really trying to poison him.

When the door opened, Thomas looked up immediately, hoping to see at least a glimpse of the antechamber outside the room. It was empty, as always, and his heart tightened: no one had gone to save him that day either. Perhaps he had finished his chances of salvation, perhaps that imprisonment was what he deserved, or perhaps he had to try to save himself. But how? He glanced out the window. The only way to escape the guards was to jump, but from such a height, it meant certain death. The familiar, yet wrong, shot of the lock distracted him from his mental wanderings. It was unscheduled and it interrupted a routine that was now law for him. On hearing that noise, he suddenly turned his head, just like his jailer, who lost their concentration in surprise. The adrenaline rushed through his veins and he jumped out of bed, uncaring to be wearing one of the pajamas Maven made available to him. If Farley, Kilorn or Rasha had seen him wearing silk, they would’ve make fun of him for until the end of his days but it would’ve been a torture that he would’ve been more than happy to endure: it would’ve meant that he still had days to live in his friends’ company. But it wasn’t them who entered his field of vision but an anonymous guard, wearing the Samos’ colors, who was escorting a young man who was anything but anonymous and whom Thomas had learned to recognize.

Ptolemus Samos’ black eyes peered at him from head to toe and returned with the tenderness of a whip. He threw the same look at Tristan before killing him in that Summerton’s cell. Who knows what they had done with his body. Probably the same thing that they had done to Ann’s. Surely nothing that was worth saying to Rasha. Without a doubt something very different from what would happen to his. Because if Ptolemus Samos was in his room, it could only mean that he had come to kill him.

"You don’t have permission to stay here." said the cat-faced woman, now standing between Ptolemus and Thomas. The newblood was stunned by her audacity: no one stood between Ptolemus Samos and his prey, the demonstration was the way he had shaken off his own sister and the prince that damn day at Summerton.

Ptolemus didn’t even look at her, and the guard took her away coldly. He crossed House Samos first-born’s gaze and Thomas prayed that he would read the hatred he felt for him.

"Wear something acceptable, the king demands your presence." he said, loading every word with contempt. Suddenly, thirty-five days of imprisonment seemed too few. A part of him would’ve wanted to oppose, but even the isolation hadn’t affected his survival instinct: any move was an extra possibility to escape. Therefore, he opened the wardrobe and looked at the clothes that Maven had left him: they were all well-made, probably old garments that had belonged to him in the past. Only when he recognized a military suit he realized how wrong he was: they weren’t his clothes, they were Cal’s.

Maven sat on a throne of Silent Stone. It was slowly wasting him, but at least he was certain that his mother's hand wasn’t in his thoughts; it had been more than a month since her death, yet he was still terrified that something had remained in his mind. He was sure he wasn’t crazy, that he had heard her whispers well after Elara had taken her last breath. Therefore, he had built that hurried in a hurry, no gems or precious metals to embellish it: it had to do his duty and until that day, it had done it very well, but something seemed to break when he caught Thomas’ gaze. An abyss of distractions, full of noise and elegant confusion, separated them, but the room could’ve been very empty. He shouldn’t have been there. He should’ve been in his room, dying slowly, away from his eyes. But not from your heart, whispered his mother’s familiar voice. For once, he agreed with her of his own free will: Thomas could never be away from his heart.

Slowly, he also recognized Mare. She still wore the collar and the white shirt and a sentinel Arven kept her on a leash. Thomas too noticed her and turned, showing him his pronounced cheekbones. Captivity had physically tried him but it hadn’t bent his spirit; when he met his gaze again, in his eyes he read a silent reproach. He twisted his hands, uncomfortable. What was he doing there?

"I demand an explanation!" he snapped, leaping to his feet, but being careful to keep his grip firmly on the throne’s high arms. The anger’s explosion made the music stop, just what he would’ve preferred to avoid, although it was just what he had agreed with Evangeline, and with it the dance, shifting his guests’ attention to the scene.

"You gave orders that the terrorists were imprisoned, locked up as useless wine bottles, and after a month of council deliberations, there is still no agreement on what will happen to them." Evangeline answered. He didn’t read in her eyes the same fear he had felt in Templyn, but the same couldn’t be said of her brother. Ptolemus Samos was stiff and immobile, his hand clenched in a fist, as he shuttled between him and his sister with his eyes. But what could he do? She had deliberately disobeyed his orders but she was still Volo Samos’ daughter, his betrothed and future queen. He certainly couldn’t punish her, not when his position on the throne was still shaky. Of course, not doing it would’ve meant other cons... With Thomas so close, he couldn’t concentrate and he decided to postpone the decision later. For the moment, he would stick to the plan.

"The crimes they committed are many," Evangeline continued, "so much that they would deserve a dozen death sentences and a thousand life sentences each, according to our laws, as they have killed and mutilated hundreds of your subjects, including your parents."

At the deceased rulers’ mention, both prisoners shivered, but for different reasons: Mare had witnessed what had happened to his father, while Thomas had been the cause, along with him, of what happened to his mother. Only the thought of having burned her alive made him sick and at the same time filled him with a strange sense of lightness. Did the Reds feel like that when they managed to kill a Silver? Was that the feeling of getting rid of your oppressor?

"And you, who are not even part of my council, would like to talk about their punishments here, during a party?" Maven asked dryly, thanking the Silent Stone for preventing him from incinerating Evangeline instantly.

The girl ignored his modification of the script and went on anyway, shortening the distances between them.

"If the council still treats you like a child, I'm willing to do that!" she snapped, shortening the distances between them. It was obvious that it was all a fiction, a show performed on that stage because the court was there to assist and he had to end it before anyone noticed it.

"The Queenstrial has certainly highlighted the most skilled girl." he commented, taking her hand, repressing the disgust he felt toward her. Then he turned suddenly, just like an actor in the theater, addressing his uncle, accepting his interrogation. He felt sorry for Mare, he knew well what it felt like to have a whisper in his head, but she was a person who was willing to sacrifice for his own kingdom. Contrary to Thomas.

When Mare began to beg him, the newblood also began to do so. They must have become friends, after all.

"Maven, please, don’t let him!" he shouted, but his voice seemed to get lost in the hall echoes. He hadn’t used it for too long and now the silence so prolonged showed off its fruits.

He hadn’t enough strength to escape the Samos guard’s grip, nor to resist when Ptolemus grabbed him by the shoulders. Both held him there without too much difficulty, forcing him to be a passive observer of the terrible scene that ran before his eyes. He couldn’t decide who to watch, if Samson crushing Mare's throat, his big hand squeezing tightly above the metal collar, Mare herself, the personification of terror, which she called Maven in a last, desperate attempt to persuade him to change his mind, or the latter, who held one hand on the throne and with the other clutched Evangeline's. They were a couple of monsters, perfect for each other even in the lack of love they could mutually give each other. He met his gaze, his eyes blue like ice, so familiar and ruthless. Her eyes. Maven didn’t have the strength to bear his delusion and broke eye-contact. Then he turned, leaving him alone again with two silent jailers, wondering what would happen to Mare and how and why she was there, aware that no one would give him the answers he was looking for.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Still plotting away SCSI

Eren didn't remember anything about what Isabel and Levi talked about, only that Isabel was gone now... when he really needed a friend. Olou had succumbed to his wounds. Despite Hanji's best efforts, he still passed away... and all the kind words towards him now sat heavily in his gut. He'd been so sure that Olou would survive. He'd fought hard, hanging on for over a week but infection had set in, his condition spiralling after that. Tonight everyone was drinking in "celebration" of the memory of those that had been lost. Not up for the company, Eren had swiped a couple bottles of the stuff the officers had been drinking, and holed up in his room. But the more he drank, the worst he felt. It was like some massive abyss had opened inside of him, sucking all the happiness from the world with it. He was on his second bottle before his friends found him, having swiped their own bottles of booze. Though his room was far too small, Jean, Connie, Sasha, Mikasa, Armin and Krista were all there with him now. A few other recruits had somehow managed to end up there too. While the company was kind of nice, no one actually understood. He'd respected Olou. He was a crucial part of the team, and now he was gone forever. It wasn't fair. Olou deserved to live. Not like him... As the night slipped away his friends gradually left, due to the fact Levi's room was so close to his. More than a little drunk, he didn't even know what he was doing or saying, only that he didn't want to be alone. Not anymore. He wanted someone to want him and to care about him... if it was just for the night. Laying back on his bed, he felt the weight shift as some climbed in next to him. With his eyes still closed, lips ghosted against his as if he'd voiced his need for contact outloud. Not caring who it was, he kept his eyes closed and gave up, the kissing slowly growing more heated until the pair of them were grinding up against each other, Eren panting for more as they fumbled each other's pants open, at least it was a guy... that was something... palming at his partner's erection, he mewed as his own fisted roughly. He needed more. He wanted this empty feeling filled, bucking their hips up against each other, he was so close when they were interrupted "What the fuck do you two think you're doing?!" The kiss was broken, the warm body pulled away from him by Levi of all people "Are you shitty brats seriously drunk?! You. Get out!" There was a mumbled "Yes, sir", before the thud of stumbling steps left the roof "Are you serious?" Panting, Eren couldn't care less if Levi could see his tenting erection. If Levi liked to interrupt his "fun", then he could see what he was missing "What does it even matter?" "What do you mean, "What does it matter?". Your body isn't normal. You can't just let someone between your legs because you're sad" "Whatever" "Eren..." "What the fuck do you expect me to do?! If... if I'd done better or been better, Olou might have survived! Now he's dead! I hate this! I hate being this monster! I hate it!" Breaking down into sobs his whole body shook, finally he curled into himself as he screamed into his pillows "I hate this! I hate it!" "Eren..." "Don't say my name! Don't say it like you care! No one fucking cares!" There was a snarl, then Eren was being lifted from his bed "Olou died. He died and it's fucking shitty, but we all tried our hardest to save him. Hanji gave her everything. Petra stayed by his non-stop. We're all fucking hurting" "I'm so tired of hurting" "We all are" Levi carried him from his room, the walk was short before he was lowered back down again "Stay still, you can't sleep like that" For a second Eren's heart leapt, before he realised what Levi meant. Stripping off his pants and boots, Levi then covered him with his blankets "S-sir?" "I'm not going to leave you alone tonight" Passing out in his captains bed, Eren had no idea things were going to be worse once morning came. * Flustered, Levi watched Eren sleeping in his bed. He'd walked in some heavy petting, after catching Eren's scent in the hallway, and damn near imploded on the spot. With his legs spread, Eren and the male Corps member were in their own world, clumsily and sloppily palming at each without caring about the fact the door was wide open. He felt... enraged. Enraged that someone else was touching Eren. And betrayed by his emotions because he knew how badly he wanted to kill the kid touching Eren. They hadn't talked much since Isabel had possessed Eren, but the kid had done all his duties faultlessly. He'd thought he was ok, but Olou's death was hitting all of them hard. Saying goodbye was never nice. But perhaps because he'd spoken to Isabel, the pain wasn't exactly what he'd thought it would be. Olou had died with Petra by his side. Knowing he was loved and respected, and that his body would find its way back to his family. Levi had hoped to talk to Eren, but the brat had passed out on him before he could. Waking Eren, the boy looked like shit. Yawning softly as he crawled from Levi's bed with a small whine "What happened?" "You had a bit too much to drink last night, but I don't have time to fill you in on the particulars" "I... don't think I like alcohol" "You should definitely stay away from it. We need to get you showered and down to Hanji" "What? Why don't to Hanji?" "During yesterday's wake, we have two government officials arrive. They want to run tests again" Eren's already pale face lost its remaining colour. The teen clamped a hand to his mouth as he rushed to the bathroom, his sound of wretching summing up Levi's feelings on the matter entirely. The two officials had already made themselves at home in Hanji's office, Hanji having been evicted to the hallway where she playing with pony tail nervously. Clearing his throat to give her the heads up that they were approaching, the woman pushed herself away from the wall with her foot "Eren! I'm so sorry. I didn't know they were coming" "Not so loud Hanji. He discovered the delights of alcohol last night" "Ooooh! Is he having his first hangover? I hope you've made him drink plenty of water" "No. I thought I'd just shove him into your office without anything to eat or drink" "Levi!" "He's joking Hanji..." Truthfully, he'd tried to make Eren eat and drink something, but the boy had nibbled on some bread before deciding he couldn't eat "Do you know what they have planned for him?" "No. I'm not allowed to see any of their test results or even be present. Also, Erwin was looking for you" "For me, or for Eren" "For you" Shuffling past him, Eren let Hanji pull him into a hug "You should go see Erwin, I'll be ok" "Eren, you don't have to put up with this. You can demand they stop at anytime. Or call for me, or Erwin. You don't deserve to go through everything alone" "It'll be fine... I'll be fine. Where am I going?" "They're waiting in my office" "Ok... I guess I'll see you both later" The kid looked like a kicked puppy as he let go of Hanji, the look making Levi wish he could steal him away from the pain to come, but apparently Shitty Eyebrows wanted him. Staying long enough for Eren to disappear from his sight, Levi then turned to leave "Let me know the moment they release him" "Will do. I'm worried though. His next heat..." "You're worried they'll send him into heat early?" "Yes. There's a house Erwin wants Eren to use for his heats, but if he goes into heat here... There's nothing prepared" "Make a list of what you think he'll need. I'll take care of it once I've talked to Erwin" "I don't think he'll give you permission to act alone" "I don't care what he wants. We both know Eren's going to be tortured again, and we both know he won't be fit to return to active duty immediately" "Oh! So you're going to take him down to the house?" "Sometimes I wonder how someone so smart, can take so long to catch on" "Did you just admit I was smart?! Aww, Levi! Come here" Flipping Hanji off, Levi stormed away before she hug him. He didn't understand why she always had to be like this. Couldn't she just not make a big fuss about these things? Levi's lack of sleep had his legs aching as he marched along the hall to Erwin's office. His mind was a whirl of thoughts, most over the guilt he felt over leaving Eren in the Governments hands. Reaching Erwin's door, he knocked light and let himself in "Levi. Come in" Raising his arm, Levi shook his head "I'm not hungry. Hanji said you wanted to see me?" "I have a mission for you" "For me? Or for Eren and I?" "Eren will not be available until after his heat" "What? Why?" "The Government has been working on a potential suppressant. If all goes well, his heat won't happen at all" "They found a way to stop them?" "Potentially. As I said, I have a mission for you and for the rest of the squad" "We just Olou" "I know, and as unfortunate as it is, we can't delay" "What about Eren? What if he shifts?" "I've been assured he will be sedated, not killed" Because that was going to work... not... "Levi, we can't afford for you to sit this one out. There was recently reports of intelligent werewolves, other than Eren. Naturally, as this information has come second hand from individuals in the Underground, we don't expect it to be accurate, yet we're on official warning over Eren's actions" "They're using the fact he shifted and saved lives to make you chase after your own tail again" "We aren't in a position to say no" "That's why Eren's off being tortured again, and we're rubbing our noses in the lap of the Government like a bitch in heat" "Levi. None of us want this for Eren. If though Hanji removed his womb, he still goes into heat and I know I don't have to remind you how problematic that is" "And what if does go into heat? What if I'm sent into whatever that was again" "Hanji is calling it a blood rut. You were consumed with both the need for blood and to breed" "It sounds fucking disgusting" "Take it up with her. I've prepared extra vials for your trip" "If I'm going that far, I'm going to need money" "What for?" "Information isn't free. I'm not going to get anything out of anyone without a generous amount of money. Besides, Hanji needs supplies" "I'll need a full report for reimbursement. Receipts too" "I know how to do this, but you're not going to be getting receipts from the underground" Slowly opening his bottom drawer, Erwin pulled out a coin pouch, throwing it on the table with a sigh "Take whoever you need. Petra might wish to visit her family" "Will we be escorting Olou's body?" "No. He will escorted separately" "She should be with him. She knows the family. I'll take both Eld and Gunther. The three of us will we enough" "You have my permission to embark once prepared" Erwin offered his arm again, Levi walking across the room to take it in his hands, his teeth sliding into Erwin's arm "Drink what you need" If he did that, Erwin would be drained. Maybe he should just drain his commander anyway? They'd hardly been acting like the friends they were supposed to be... he wasn't entirely innocent, but even this mission felt like something thrown together to seperate him from Eren. Though that may have been his own paranoia. * The Underground never changed, it was still the shitty cesspool he remembered it to be. The streets were clogged with rubbish, the drains all blocked and the aqueduct running through the middle of the place was choked with rubbish and river weeds, while its water was an unhealthy green. Nothing ever changed here, and nothing ever would. No one had the strength of will to rise above and any who were idiotic enough to think they could change things, were the first to find a knife in the back. Their bodies would be picked clean, clothes and all, before being left to rot like a pile of trash, that even their family disowned. With all things laid so open, there was little wonder why Eld and Gunther were both armed to the teeth. They'd arrived in the Underground four days prior, and despite having spent a generous amount of Erwin's money, all they'd learnt was their were still people stupid enough to try their luck outside the walls. Honestly, Levi wanted to wash his hands on all of this and return the castle, as all he could think was that Eren was being tortured while he was in a hell of his own, but Eld and Gunther were persistent and insistent. They'd covered over half the usual dives, and Levi was absolutely sure they weren't about to hear anything magically useful. Still, here they were at another one. Levi somehow locked in a glaring contest with the bar keeper, who had nothing to say to a dog of the military. Even if pulling a knife had brought him up short, the man was staying tight lipped "Do you, or do you not know anything about recent werewolf attacks" Spitting in his face, the man laughed openly. With a fluid move, Levi pinned the man's left hand to bar, cutting off his little finger with a satisfying ting when the blade hit the metal of the bar "Remember anything yet" "I ain't got nothing to tell you!" Screaming it now, Levi rolled his eyes as he hefted a sigh "Then who does" "Ke-nny. He's the one shooting his mouth" "Kenny?" "The reaper" "He's dead" "No he ain't!" "I killed Kenny with my own hands. Whoever that is, it's not Kenny" "He calls himself Kenny!" Whimper pathetically, Levi released his hand. The man pulling it up to his chest "I suggest you give me some real information if you want to keep all the rest of your fingers" "I don't got anything else to say! You know what it's like here! Without rumours, this place would be too boring to stomach" "So you're saying everything werewolf related is a joke?" "Them up there were talking about it" "And Kenny?" "He's the one who goes out the walls!" Whatever this man had been drinking, it was clearly killing off whatever was left in the braincell department. He probably couldn't wipe his own arse. So much for the bravado he'd tried to portray. With his ruined reputation, this place would probably be looted and burnt to the ground by the end of the night "You're lucky I don't take another finger for wasting my time" "Sir?" "We're leaving. There's nothing here" "What about Kenny?" "He's long gone. You're free to stay if you really want" Returning to sunshine, it felt like his skin was trying to shed it outer layer. The filth attached its self within seconds of stepping foot down there, and it felt like no matter how many times he scrubbed, he'd never be clean. As Eld and Gunther split off from him, Levi returned to the room he was using at the Military base, impressed to find the supplies he'd requested had already been delivered. Most of them were for Eren, and to stock the house he'd used for his future heats. The blankets, pillow and soap he already purchased sat almost forgotten in the corner of his room. He'd taken his time on the first day at the Capital to make sure he'd have the money to buy Eren nice things... nicer things. Things the kid would like and would help to assure him that he was indeed human. He wasn't going to stay with the kid for his heat, but he could make sure Eren was doing better mentally before he entered it. An hour later the clothes he'd been wearing were in the trash, a fresh uniform felt almost like heaven in comparison to those disease riddled things. Sitting on his bed, he was checking his correspondence. There was nothing of real interest. Erwin had sent a letter saying Eren was still being held, but he hadn't shifted. Olou's body had been returned to his family and Petra was taking a weeks leave. The woman would be rendezvousing with them at the end of the week... meaning he was now stuck for another 2 days. Fucking Shitty Eyebrows and fucking Petra. And fuck the bartender for bringing up Kenny. If he could forget the man, he would in a heartbeat... He could just picture Kenny's smug face when he came face to face with whoever had taken up his name. That creepy smile. The laugh. The double tap to heart for insulting him. Everything about the man had revolted him and maybe that was why he was half tempted to track down whoever was using his name. Just to see the difference with his own eyes. Sighing to himself, he forced himself off the bed and over to the desk, he needed to pen a reply back to Erwin. With next to nothing to do, the next two days passed exceedingly slowly. His presence had brought out the weirdos of the Military base, many of them wanting to ask his advice. Eld and Gunther had both found it funny until he'd starting sending them pair of them to answer any all questions, filling their schedules to the point where his own was empty. The only thing of any importance that he'd accomplished in those two days was picking up a few nice tins of black tea, and new fine china cup. * Petra talked almost nonstop during the ride back to the castle. The woman in much higher spirits than expected, leaving him wanted to yell at her to shut up. Erwin hadn't replied to his last message, and fucked up dream about Kenny had left him feeling on edge. Next time, Erwin could send someone else to the Underground, because it had been a colossal waste of his time. He could have literally been watching paint dry and it would have been more enjoyable, not to mention he wouldn't have had to destroy a set of clothes of it. Nudging his heels, his horse broke into gallop, the wind feeling refreshing as it chased the last lingering scents of septic from his nose. Fuck the Underground. Having dropped back to trot, Petra moved to his side again. The woman frowning at him as if he'd done something wrong "Sir?" "What is it?" "Eld and Gunther mentioned Eren was being experimented on again. Do you think he'll be ok?" "No" "No, you don't?" "No. I'm expecting it to be a shit storm when we get home" "Do you know what they're doing to him?" "They have some procedure that is supposed to stop his heat" "Is that safe?" "How am I supposed to know?" "It's just... Eren is such a kind kid" "He's certainly worked his way into your heart" "He gave everything he could to try and help Olou. I wish I knew how to thank him" "Like that" "Like what?" "Eren's pretty thick. If you want to thank him, than you actually have to use the words" "He seemed annoyed the last time I thanked him" "The fact you did so 8 times had nothing to do with it" "Maybe. I still wish I could give him something" "If you really want to give him something, just say thanks and leave it at that. And whatever you do, don't got giving him anything alcoholic" Petra giggled, covering her mouth with her hand "You could have been handled that situation better" "He told you?" "No, you scared the hell out of the soldier he was with. The poor guy was running down the hall with his pants around his ankles" Levi wished he'd seen that, instead he been too focused on the fact that someone other than him had been touching Eren, then forcing the kid to spend the night sleeping in his bed, attempting to erase the shitty smell of the unknown man's arousal "He had it coming" "Eren's body might be different, but you could have left them alone" "And what if he bit his lip and shifted, or what if he'd had a panic attack and shifted?" "I'm pretty sure if being interrupted by you didn't upset him, nothing would" "The kid was wasted. He pretty much passed out as soon as his pants and boots were off" He sounded way too bitter for it to be passed off as simple annoyance "Do you think they'll become something more?" "It was just a drunk hook up" "With his friend" "Wait? He knew the guy?" That... that... Levi didn't have a word for exactly how he was feeling over this. Drunk and random hookups were pretty common, but hooking up with someone you knew and someone you were friends with. It was more than petty jealousy that was causing his heart to race, his chest to tighten and his reins to snap in his hands. It was something vile and evil. "I don't know the boy's name, I've seen him with Armin and Mikasa before, so perhaps they'd know. Do you think they're together? Maybe he'd like to spend Eren's heat with him?" "It was just a fucking hook up. There's nothing there and no one will be spending Eren's heat with him. If you have that much free time on your hands to dribble this shit, fall back and check on Eld and Gunther" Fuck. Fucking Eren. This was what the shitty brat did to him. He ruined his carefully constructed facade and reputation in a manner of minutes. Stroking the base embers of his desires into an inferno... without even being into the same space as him. Rather than looking hurt, Petra just shook her head with another giggle, shooting him a knowing look before dropping back to the supply cart. Fuck. By now, the only person Levi was kidding... was himself. * Leaving the purchases that were to be taken to the house in the cart, Levi forced himself to help put everything away, as an excuse to settle his nerves before seeing Eren. Given the castle was still standing, and no one looked particularly worried, Eren couldn't have shifted into his Lycan form. At least something had gone right. Skipping his debriefing with Erwin, Levi headed down to Hanji's office. The walls were all still standing, which he again took as positive sign. With a light knock on her door, he let himself into her office, finding it devoid of Government Scientists and Hanji in the middle of scribbling something down as if her life depended on it "Really Shitty Glasses. I come back and you can't even manage a hello?" Looking up, Hanji blinked at him as if only just coming back to reality "Levi!" Pushing herself back from her desk, Hanji rushed around it before throwing her arms around him "Uh... Hanji?" "I didn't think you were coming back until Sunday" "It is Sunday" "Oh... Oh Shit!" Flying back from the hold, Hanji grabbed her notebook. Wrapping her hand around his wrist, Levi found himself being dragged from the room "I've got to check on Eren" "I thought he'd be here" "He's back down in the dungeon" "What? Why?" "It's a long story. Basically he reacted badly to whatever they gave him and he bit one the scientists. They wanted to chain him up, but I managed to get them to agree to confine him in the dungeon again" "He bit one of them?" "He was only in his wolf form, so it wasn't even that bad" "I'm pretty sure being bitten by a wolf isn't something that can be written off as "not bad"" "It was a tiny little bite on the man's wrist. His teeth didn't even break the skin" "And they wanted him chained up for that?" "Yeah. I shouldn't be surprised, he's been sick since the first day they got him" "What did they do?" "Injected him with something that's supposed to stop his heat. When it didn't give the results they wanted, they pumped up the dose. His body couldn't keep up with it, and he started bleeding internally. Whatever they gave him messed with his healing" "Is that even possible?" "Yep. The worst bit is, his body burnt through whatever it was too fast for me to get a sample of it. His blood work came back completely clean" "If he's clean, why isn't he healing?" "I don't know" "What does Erwin have to say about it all?" "Just to keep him notified. You haven't seen him yet?" "No. Not yet" "Aww you came to see Eren first..." Smacking Hanji, the woman pouted "That's not nice" "You brought it on yourself" "Nope. Totally didn't. I think Erwin's been down to see him, but he's pretty groggy" Just what the fuck had they done to him this time?! And what kind of business could Erwin possibly have with Eren. Even before Hanji opened the door down to the dungeons, Levi could smell Eren's blood. It's coppery tang was muddied with something less than desirable, yet he couldn't name the offending scent. With a look of disgust on his face, he followed Hanji down "You can smell it too, can't you? His scent's all wrong. He usually smells more dog like, but now it's..." "Disgusting" "That's a little harsh. I was thinking medical?" "Chemical" "Chemical. He smells chemical to you?" "I can still smell blood, but there's something in it..." "I need to write this down, oh. His senses are also a little off, so you'll have to speak softly" "You make it sound like all I do is yell at him" "Our normal tones sound like we are yelling at him, so you would be" Levi sighed. Couldn't they just have one good week? Falling silent for the rest of the walk, Hanji moved ahead of him to open Eren's cell "Eren, its Hanji and Levi. I've come to check on you" "I'm ok" "We both know that's not going to work. How's the bleeding?" Eren was curled on his side with his face hanging off the side of the bed, above bucket. At first the thought the kid had been vomiting, until Hanji moved the lantern closer and he saw the kid's gums were bleeding "I think it's getting better" "Good, that's good. I'm just going to have a little look" While Eren was busy with Hanji, Levi sank down onto the end of the kids bed. Despite his lanky form, Eren had somehow curled up so he was barely taking up a third of the bed "Have you eaten anything?" "Teeth hurt" "Ok. What about drinking water?" "I tried" "Now Levi's back, I'm going to see about getting you a bed in the infirmary, where I can actually monitor your condition" "I'm ok... they said it might be like this" Hanji hadn't told him that? Did Eren tell her? "I know, but you're not in a good way" "You sound like Armin" "Did they come to see you?" "Yeah... Mikasa wanted to yell at Erwin" "Oooh. I wish I'd known that" "Armin talked her out of it. I'm sorry" "It's ok. Maybe next time?" "Don't go encouraging her. Um... if Levi's back, can I shower now? I feel so gross" "That's up to Levi" Hanji silently pleaded with him to agree. Eren had probably tried to hide whatever else was done to him from her, so as not to worry the woman. The kid needed a chaperone, and she was asking him to be it "A bath might be better" "I don't want to make a mess" "You won't make a mess. Do you think Levi would let you?" "No..." "See. Levi's going to help you up, is that ok?" "I'm too dirty" "That's the point of taking a bath, right Levi?" "Yeah. This room is fucking filthy" Eren started to laugh, before dissolving into a fit of coughing "Let's get you up. A hot bath will also help ease some of that congestion" "Hanji, dad was a doctor. I know that" "Oooh. Someone's getting snappy. You're lucky you're so cute" "You're literally the only one who thinks I'm cute" "Levi thinks you're cute" "Don't bring me into this" Eren's coughing slowly subsided enough for Levi to get close enough to lift the kid into his arms. The brat looked like shit, yet somehow managed to shoot him a smile "Sorry, sir. Hanji won't let me walk" "Can you?" "I don't know" "Maybe save the walking until after you've stopped coughing up blood" "Fight me" "I could take you with my eyes closed" "You're not supposed to threaten a sick person" "It wasn't a threat, it was a promise" Eren was doing so much better than Levi had expected. He was able to hold and follow the banter, that Hanji took over as Levi carried him up to his private bathroom. Sitting the brat in the bath, he tugged Eren's blankets away, throwing them at Hanji with a very pointed glare "Right. Eren, I'll just be outside if you need me. Levi's going to help you bath" "You're lucky I'm too sick of feeling gross to say now" "How long's it been since he bathed?" "A week" "Ok. We at burning those blankets and his clothes" "Levi" "That's fucking disgusting!" Eren whimper at his shout, his hands clutching his head "Don't go scaring him" "Then take better care of him" "Hey, they only left on Friday" "That's two days" "Either you both shut up, or you both get out" Hanji failed at turning her laughter into a cough "Didn't you hear him, get out" "Alright, but try to behave yourselves" Helping Eren out his ruined clothes, the teen didn't even seem to care when he was finally naked. Blood and slick covered the kids thin pubes and thighs, more over his arse and more still dribbling from his mouth. There weren't any signs of external wounds, though around his tone nails were black, but that might have just been filth "Hanji's so fucking weird" "What makes you say that?" "She's seen me naked, but she makes you take care of me" "If you shift, it's my job to bring you down" "Oh... I don't think I can shift. I'm so tired" Closing his eyes, Eren rested his head on the side of the bath. Still sporting some puppy fat in his face from youth, Eren's stomach was surprisingly toned, yet his skin was so soft and warm beneath Levi's fingers. He'd by lying if he didn't feel something... an insistent throbbing in his groin was definitely something, but even he wasn't going to act when the kids defences were non-existent. Leaving Eren's crotch for the boy to clean himself, Levi scrubbed the rest of him down, making sure not to press too firmly as it seemed to pain the brat "Eren, can you sit up? I need to clean your hair" With a sleepy hum, Eren slumped towards the wall. Not exactly helping him "Brat" "Sorry, sir" "Just try not to pass out and drown in this shitty water" "Feels good being clean" "You're not clean yet" "Cleaner" "Stop moving" "I'm not" "Yes you are" "I don't feel like I am..." Levi was tempted to call Hanji in, as Eren couldn't stop swaying, but when he poured the jug of warm water over Eren's head, the kid shot up, sitting ramrod straight as he spluttered "What the hell?" "Your hair's filthy" "You tried to drown me" "If I was trying, I would have succeeded" "Mmm. Yeah. You're probably right" Washing Eren's hair it, his hair was just as soft as his wolf's fur. The brat having the nerve to let out rumbling huffs that slowly turned to snores "Hanji, get in here" "You won't want to keep him to yourself" "Don't say it like that. I'm not touching him down there, and he fell asleep before he could clean himself" "Awww are you scared?" "I'm going to get his room ready" "No need! Your bed is right there" "He's sleeping in his own room" "But Levi" "Don't "but" me. You can watch over him there" "I think he'd rather have you" "I don't want his filthy blood all over my bed" "What's going on here?" Whipping from looking at Eren to look to Erwin, both of them hushed him at the same time. Erwin's lips twitched as the man rose an eyebrow "Eren hasn't had a bath in a week, so I had Levi help me out" "And you couldn't have done this somewhere else?" "It's the closest bathroom to his room" "He's supposed to be in the dungeon" "Erwin, he's bleeding nonstop. He's only going to get sick down there. "I'm your commanding officer. You need to clear these things with me. And you Levi, you didn't even report back to me" "I went to inform Hanji that we were back with her supplies" The lie smoothly slid from his tongue as he held his anger back "Then I asked him to help me with Eren. Once he was settled, we were going to let you know" Thanks to Isabel's words, all he could think was that Erwin was being petty and jealous. He knew he wasn't completely unfortunate in the looks department, and that a normal person wouldn't insist on feeding him without getting something out of it, but now... If Erwin was letting his jealousy cause Eren pain, that wasn't something he was ok with "Hanji, can you finish up with Eren on your own? I need to talk to Erwin" "Alright, but I'll need your help to get him out" "Just make sure he's clean" Nudging Erwin out the bathroom, Levi pulled the door closed behind him "What's going on with you?" "With me?" "Cut the shit Erwin. If you've got something to say, say it without you usual games" "Fine. I think you're letting Eren cloud your judgment. You've stopped seeing him a threat" "You're the one letting Eren cloud your judgement. The kid was left in his own filth for the last week. You saw how badly they fucked him up before, but you were happy to lock him up again" "I locked him up for his own safety" Levi scoffed, his glare fierce "Like you sent me away on a completely bogus mission" "You're too close to him" "How? You assigned me to be his partner" "I didn't assign him to you so you could play happy families with him" "Are you serious? Wow. I thought she was full of shit, but wow. You really do have feelings for me, don't you" "And you don't?" "Not the way you want me to" "Bullshit Levi. I..." "You what? You allowed me to feed and I'm grateful for that. But love and feeding, they're too completely different things" "How can you say that? We all know what you're like, but you feed predominantly from me. Of course I'm going to think..." "Do you think I like feeding? Do you think I like never being sated?" "You..." "I never take more than the bare minimum. If I drank like I wanted, you'd be dead. I know you don't want to hear it, but for me, it was never more than a way for you to remind me how indebted I am to you. I considered you my friend. I was grateful you kept my secret, but the way you're treating Eren, it's not ok" "He's a kid!" "Don't you think I know that? There's something in Eren, but he's not the monster you think he is. If he was, he never would have saved everyone" "He's a danger" "He's not a danger" "If he wasn't, I wouldn't have to lock him up!" Levi ground his teeth together, biting down the urge to snap "What is that supposed to mean?" "It means people heard Eren bit a scientist. Whatever goodwill he'd managed to earn, is gone" "He didn't even break the skin" "How do you know?" "Hanji" "Of course" The bitterness in Erwin's tone hurt to hear "Look. I was going to ask permission to take Eren and Hanji down to the house you want to use for his heat. I think we could both use some time apart" Hanji was going to give him hell, but Erwin might have just lost his head again if Levi hadn't thrown her name in "Fine. Leave whenever you're ready" "Once Eren stops bleeding. Hanji says his in a kind of sensory overload" "Make sure she submits a full report on him" "I will. You'll have my report on your desk by tomorrow morning" "Ok..." "Erwin. I am sorry" "Don't. I want to hear it, right now"

[chrisv73-blog]

Secrets - Part 1

Word Count: 3,712

Warnings: None mostly fluff.

Panic. The emotion gripping me as I all but sprinted from behind the bar and into the ladies room. I couldn’t believe what was happening. Being alone with him in my environment- his smell, his sounds, his skin, his hands, thighs- everything made any self-control evaporate into thin air. I was unraveling.

Two long years since I’d set eyes on him. This man had a hold on me unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Now he was here and I was so stunned- I ran. His ghost still haunted me like a secret you can’t tell.

I felt like such an idiot. Facing myself in the cracked mirror of our dingy employee restroom I rubbed my hands under the faucet splashing water across my cheeks.

A light knock came at the door. “You okay in there?”

“I’m fine.” Embarrassed. Stupid. Flustered. But Fine.

I stared, disheartened at myself in the mirror. “What the hell was I going to do now?” This was my job. I had to go back; smile, pretend, sling some drinks and make rent. Whispered dirty things, winks, grins, napkins full of phone numbers with broken promises was expected as a bartender. Give the experience and make them love you.

Having him walk through the door was never part of the plan. He is not the plan. A kaleidoscope of flashbacks were scattered in my mind. “Fuck, shit, shit, shit!” I slammed my hand down on the cracked ceramic sink.

I cracked the door and stepped out hoping that whoever I replied to was long gone.

Leaning against the wall there he was, waiting for me. Gorgeous and dripping, of course, he had to be even better looking than I remember. He couldn’t go from 19 to 21 and not be every woman’s fantasy now, a fucking international pop-star. I could not mortify myself in front of a less famous ugly- ex. No, definitely not.

I avoided eye contact. “I’m not fine. But I will be.” I hesitated before continuing.

Surely he knew how bad he broke me. He knew that some scars don’t heal. He had heard the stories from his friends by now.

Lifting my head, his smile made me nervous. Not the kind of nervous where I’m going to grab my mace from my purse when a patron gets a little too fresh and waits for me in the parking lot after work. No, his smile was cocky and hit me in the knees amongst other places. He made me nervous.

“How you been Shawn?” He didn’t need to know that I’d woke up at midnight to buy a copy of his most recent album as garbage men clanged and newsstands opened. He didn’t need to know that I cried for weeks after he broke my heart in his driveway with four simple words only to never hear from him again.

“I’ve been good, are you okay, you don’t seem okay?” Shawn’s eyes are distracting. I close my eyes and I’m back on the tattered couch of my apartment watching him perform on some music awards show. But after a blink I’m still here standing in front of him in my cut-off tied t-shirt, jean shorts with black ripped fish nets, combat boots, dark lips, cat lined eyes and messy blonde top knot. A far cry from the girl he knew. I’d changed and I knew it, he knew it.

I shoved past him, walking briskly toward my bar, determined to forge forward.

“Shawn you already know you fucked up, let’s not do this.” My supersize nerves were camping out in my body, but I would be damned if I would let him know it. Because if I think about what might happen in the next few hours - if I let him in even an inch then I’ll burst with anxiety.

I feel a lump rising in my throat. I swallow it down while my emotions live close to the edge. All I need is that trigger and the tears that dwell beneath the surface will bubble up and roll like gritty sandpaper down my cheeks.

Shawn is so good looking now that my co-bartender Melissa once called him fucking lickable when she was checking out a magazine picture of him online. Of course, she knows nothing of my past with him. Now he was here and our past was about to collide like a freight train.

“Wait, Kameron, wait a fucking minute, Jesus!” Shawn’s two strides caught up to my ten and I felt his long fingers grasp my elbow and turn me toward him.

Shawn is looking at me with reverence, his touch sending shivers down my spine. I wanted to be adored by someone, but it can’t be Shawn. Not after crawling back from the abyss I found myself in the last time he decided he was done with me.

“No we’re not doing this again.” I find my voice to verbally shout what I want to say but won’t, that he can’t walk all over my heart and leave me bewildered and confused when his next tour starts. “This isn’t a game I’m playing with you anymore Shawn.”

“Actually, I never play and tell,” he teased. Now I clutch my hands to my side even tighter as I suppress a sarcastic smirk. “I’m fucking thrilled for you,” I quickly add.

He winces as he slides his hand off my elbow, clearly contrite. “I’m actually really sorry about everything and how I handled it all.” Shawn hides his hands in his pockets head hung low.

Suddenly I’m laughing, not because I want to hurt him. It’s because I realize that this is in essence is the final phase of a breakup. The denial, the begging, the pathetic tender long goodbye “but I thought you loved me” pleas, whether it’s public or private, it feels the same. No one ever really knew about me and Shawn except for our friends, so I suffered in silence while he mended on a stage. Yet, here in this moment, there is no more argument, no more pointless debate I would never win and emerge victorious, the entire universe begins with the words I’m sorry: closure.

Shawn stands here in front of me. The crowd melts around me and I’m colder than ice. This is what we are now. I’ve moved on.

I decide quickly what my next move will be. Grabbing his shoulders I hug him and his cologne wafts through my nostrils. My palms start sweating and butterflies take flight in my belly, nothing more than aftershocks. I pull away as Shawn’s long arms squeeze me back and he buries his head in my shoulder. I pull away with more force and push an errant strand of hair off my cheek, then answer.

“Shawn, I live my life now based on my positive decisions. When I look back at the things in my life that really hurt sometimes the easiest thing to do is forgive.”

I mean it, truly, just now, I have forgiven the 19 year-old boy who broke my heart. He stands there feet melted into the ground as the bitter but blunt words hit him like a wounded animal. I take the opportunity to walk away with my pride, head high, the lioness.

(Hours later)

Shawn is so ridiculously handsome that it’s almost not fair. Now that I’m back behind my bar, in my element, on my stage, he watches me from the distance of his roped off corner. Melissa cornered me at the trash can as soon as I lifted the access gate. I told her only what I wanted her to know of course. Shawn wasn’t helping me keep the gossip from reaching maximum peak.

Time passes in the frantic pace of pickle backs, buttery nipples and lemon drops. I’m at least 3 deep at every corner. My memory puts Shawn aside as I pull them in, I make memories for my patrons and let them believe I’m the best friend they never had.

Turning around I’m disarmed to see Shawn and Geoff standing in front of me, looking over our beer list. Shawn motions me over and I lean down to hear him over the now thumping bass beat of some familiar dirty rap song. “Is there anyone waiting for you back home?” I laugh, a truly self-deprecating one. I have to, really. There had been no one romantic since Shawn. There had been men, but no one permanent. “Definitely, no, nobody waits for me.” I bite back.

Its then that I notice the familiar glazed over look I’ve seen on so many men here. I lean forward because I want to torture him and show more cleavage. I already worship at the altar of the genius who invented a push-up bra. Agent Provocateur has nothing on me.

Shawn licks his lips and burning desire is present in his eyes. “Kam”, he begins slowly, too drunk, but also clearly enjoying the taste of my name in his mouth as if he’s trying it on, rolling it around on his tongue like a cherry. “I am the biggest idiot in the world because you loved me wildly, crazily and passionately. I fucked it all up so bad.”  Words tumble off his lips like verbal diarrhea. I take a deep breathe, reassuring myself that I can deliver what Shawn needs. “You don’t want me tonight Shawn, you’re just lonely and drunk.”

“Nope, not drunk, wrecked for you,” Shawn stutters. His eyes blink ever so slowly another tell-tale sign an observant bartender recognizes. This is the longest conversation I have had with Shawn in two years. I can see that he has developed this uncanny ability to hop from witticism to raw and very honest emotional insight. It’s making him even more attractive if that’s possible.

I push back from the bar and swivel my hips around to the side, grabbing two stout beers from the cooler below. Twisting the cap I push them across in friendship. “Tell you what, those two are on me”, I say as I walk to ball cap Joe one of my favorite customers. “I’ll call you tomorrow, is your number still the same”, I shout.

Because I don’t know how I can begin to trust Shawn again I’m not so eager to agree to just have him come over. I’m pretty sure that’s where that conversation was headed. This could be especially complicated when the ex is an international pop-start and flirty and when I’m already entertaining after-hours thoughts about him. I’m in desperate need. My gauge is so far out of whack that I don’t know what’s up or down anymore.  What good could possibly come from any friendship with Shawn Mendes?

Next Day

Turns out I didn’t have to call Shawn. He managed to get my number from Matt and sent me a drawn out apology text for his unforeseen interruption at my place of work begging me to please meet him for coffee that afternoon.

I put my books away on my desk and take a quick shower. Twenty minutes later, I’m staring at my bed littered with outfits I have tried on and rejected. This is just a coffee, no big deal. It’s definitely not a date with an insanely hot ex-boyfriend who’s a popstar treated like teenage royalty. Whichever outfit I chose next will be the winning one. I reach for my favorite black jeans, an intentionally distressed torn grey sweater that’s soft on my skin and my chucks. It’s very me and with just a quick swish of powder, blush, mascara and lip balm on my bee stung lips I’m ready to go. I grab my coat and bag, head downstairs and take an Uber to our determined location.

When I arrive I swipe to pay and head into the little coffee shop painted emerald green tucked into the corner of a building. It’s a little out of the way, but I figured it would be a better location for less potential fan sightings. Shawn and I agreed to meet at three o’clock and I am only ten minutes late, so it feels like I’m on time.

He’s already here. Damn, I arrive nearly on time and I’m still late. Then again, Shawn was always the type to be on time, hold doors, and rise when I came in the room. Shawn was very chivalrous.

I walk up and he clicks to lock his phone and pushes it deep into his pocket of his $250 designer black denim skinny jeans. Damn he looked good. The olive green shirt he is wearing makes his eyes look hazel. Standing to give me a barely there kiss on the cheek my eyes flutter closed for the briefest moment at the feel of his soft lips near me.

I restrain myself and tuck away my emotions even if the sensation feels so good to me.

“Let me take your coat?” Shawn offers as he automatically slides it off my shoulders. I feel his hand gently graze the back of my neck. I decided last minute to pull my hair into a high pony. His fingers send shock waves down my spine. He folds my coat and lays it over the chair, waits for me to sit and finally pushes his long limbs into the seat next to me.

“So thank you for fitting me into your busy schedule, even though I wish you would have at least bought me dinner before taking me home”, Shawn joked.

I laugh. “Nice try. But we’re not there yet.”

He reaches across the table to clasp my hand in his, and my breath catches. He squeezes my hand three times reassuringly and the barest form of touch from him is dizzying. Maybe it’s because it’s been so long since I’ve been this physically close to him and had him touch my hand, but I pull away like he’s burned me. He places his hand on his lap and I miss it instantly.

“So where should we start Mendes.” I chatter anxiously.

Shawn takes a big gasp of air. His brow furrows and he wipes his palms anxiously on his jeans. I can tell that whatever comes next is weighing heavily on his mind.

“We could start with I’m a fucking fool. I got scared. I didn’t know how to have you and a career at the same time. So I shoved you away and spent the last two years living with that regret ever since.”

“Where is the tape recorder”, I laugh nervously. My eyes dart back and forth from his face to my hands.

Looking around the room anxiously I scan to see if anyone has their phone out. “I could so take down your career in one second if the story of us ever leaked out. You know the whole internet’s boyfriend thing and all.”

Shawn smirks, wagging a finger at me playfully.

“This guy, the guy you’re sitting in front of, he isn’t a pop-star, you know that right?”

Swallowing, here he goes again racking up more points in his favor.

“Because I can tell I’m making you a little nervous and I just want you to know it’s me, Shawn apologizing to you, meaning every single fucking word of regret. So let’s grab some coffee eh?”

We sit and chat about old times. We remember fond memories of public park scandalous rendezvous. I hold up a hand and stop him as he starts to recall the juicy parts with a mischievous glint in his eye. Slowly as each minute passes and Shawn discarded the beanie he was wearing we’re drawing more eyes on us, but Shawn doesn’t seem to care. In fact, the more people that begin to notice us the more unaffected by it all he is.

Shawn will excuse himself for a few minutes to take a few selfies and then slide back into the conversation like he never left. We did this for almost two hours. I tell him that I fucking loved his first three albums and I can’t wait to hear what he does next. He admits that he wrote a few songs about us.

Eventually he leans in closer across the table, looks me straight in the eyes and when he does that my resolve starts to weaken because his eyes are so beautiful and he doesn’t break my gaze. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this moment. How many ways I have played this dialogue back and forth in my brain?”

All I know about this moment is my body is buzzing, alive with possibilities. The exact opposite of the chill demeanor I had in the bar last night. Something shifts in Shawn’s expression too. His eyes, which I remember from 19 as playful and twinkling are now darker with an intensity to them. Neither of us says anything, and the electric quiet makes my blood turn hot. I don’t want a single thing to ruin this moment. Just as fate would be a young fan tugs at Shawn’s shirt, she can’t be more than 7 years old.

Whatever spell I was about to succumb to is broken. Holy Shit, that was close. I reach for my coat and bag before Shawn can stop me.

“Thai or Sushi for dinner,” Shawn winks.

I smile at him, giving him a flirty tilt. “You’re presumptuous.”

“Optimistic”, he counters with just enough swagger that tells me he hasn’t lost a damn thing in 2 years.

Shawn does that thing again – where he reaches for my hand, clasping his on top of mine. I’m suddenly aware of the pressure he is gently putting on my wrist, the small ridges from callouses on his otherwise smooth palm, not doubt from countless hours spent perfecting his craft. His skin feels hot on my skin. The taste of his lips would be deadly. I’m dying for him to slide his fingers through mine like old times but I can’t go back on this rollercoaster.

I slowly rise from my seat and Shawn follows me out of the quaint coffeehouse. I reach up to place my hands on his shoulders. He’s way taller than me. I catch the faint scent of his cologne again and I’m so tempted to lean in and inhale deeply. But I do resist.

But the look in Shawn’s eyes is full of hunger and then I feel the softest touch on my hair. He’s fingering a strand and I am so far gone that I’m not sure what to do next. All I know is I’m leaning in closer to him because this kind of touch from him I have missed so much. My body is racing and the moment is full of so much anticipation. “I really want to kiss you, Kam; you better stop me now or…..” Shawn sighs.

I can barely process his words. My head is so woozy, his smell and the feel of his hands. My fog is replaced by Shawn’s lips as he presses against mine with such softness, sexiness that my knees threaten to buckle. I keep my arms looped around his neck so I don’t fall. He wraps his long arms around my waist, tugging me closer as he deepens the kiss. Shawn’s lips exploring mine, his tongue tangling with mine, his hands yanking my pony tail. His sexy sighs and moans tell me that he is savoring this kiss as much as I am. He yanks me even closer and for a brief second I can feel him pressed hard against my upper thigh. He’s aroused and that snaps me out my kiss induced fog. I pull away.

“Shit”, he stumbles backward. “You okay? Kam, I honestly didn’t expect that to happen. Please speak sweetheart.”

“I have to go, Shawn I’m not your sweetheart, not anymore”, I stammer.

“But I want you to be. Let me drive you home”, he pleads.

“No Shawn. I know where that will lead.”

My hand touches my lips as we exchange a sidelong glance and Shawn clears his throat shoving his hands back deep in his jeans. Feeling his eyes on me I glanced back a few times, and his gaze was always waiting for mine.

Shawn takes his phone out placing a quick call mumbling something like plan B. A small black SUV rounds the corner and stops at the curb in front of us. “Kam this is Kevin, he’s one of my security team and he’s going to take you home. I’m going to call you tomorrow because I don’t want to push my luck.”

My breath catches as Shawn moves closer then presses his hips into mine while pushing me against the door of the SUV.  Lining his tall frame up against me in a way that makes it clear how much he wants me, he delivers a scorching kiss, deep and hungry and desperate in a lot of ways. It’s threatening to send me up in flames. I feel it across every inch of my body as he continues to explore my mouth with his tongue. One hand drops away from my face and I feel his fingers graze underneath my sweater along the waistband of my jeans. Shawn draws a simple feather trace line across my belly with his index finger and my back arches into him. I wish we were not here in public and he would undo the button, slide the zipper down and push his hand inside my panties to save me from this now excruciating ache between my legs. But I have no such luck because just like that he is reaching for the door handle.

I slide into the seat as Shawn shuts the door and bangs on the top of the car two times. I’m in this giddy drugged out state now that I’d like to stay in forever, but I needed some space to clear my head. I am tempted to shake it like I’ve just emerged from a pool of water. But yet amidst my confusion, four words are loud and clear like a drum in my ears- but they are not those four words from two years ago. The opposite. “I want Shawn Mendes.”

[the-voice-of-hell]

Rent is Theft, part 12

Read from the beginning here, read the previous chapter here.

Note:  My MC is a Filipina trans woman and I am not.  If you have any notes on that or anything else, let me know.

                                                        ***

     Deandre had the extra money to buy a floor waxer at one of the hardware stores on Aurora - of course with the intention of returning it as soon as we were done using it.  We’d done the hard work, the sun had set.  The boys had taken over for me after my place and part of the hall were done, and I was in my apartment.  Everything had been pulled off the floors to make room for the waxing.  I hadn’t bothered putting my apartment back in a reasonable order.  Even the garbage pile from the pill job had just been swept into a bag and left on top of the bar.

     I took a long bath.  My room was still too wrecked to contemplate, so after the bath I lay on a couch in the living room, listening to tunes and playing Tetris on an original gameboy.  The battery in the cartridge was long dead, leaving it unable to store high scores, but I wasn’t into that shit anyways.

     There was a knock at the door and I knew it was Grime.  I moved like a fairly chill tree sloth as I went for the door.  I opened it wide enough for him to see me in my bathrobe.  “Hey, Sailor.  Notice anything different about the place?”

     “Yeah, I heard about what you guys did.  It looks like it’s settled down a lot.  I don’t even know what to make of the whole situation, but fuck it.  How are you, Courtney?”

     Could I love Grime?  I wondered whenever he was being a good boy, making a sensitive expression, smiling gently like that - every part of his face alive.  “Mm, It’s been difficult, but I’m feeling better now.  Have you seen Marcie and Richie?  Sweet Jesus.”

     “No.  Black eyes?”

     “He has two, she has one, and the rest of the bruises are pretty nasty too.”  I was slouching against the wall and it was getting awkward, so I just walked in, leaving the door open behind me.  He followed.

     “Damn, that’s rough.  The price of fighting the good fight, right?”

     “Makes me wonder what the shithead looks like.”  I sat on one end of the couch, he sat on the other.

     He smiled, but with a hint of pain in the expression.  “Ouch.  I know he’s shit as far as we’re concerned, but y’know, clearly he has mental health issues, probably needs therapy that doesn’t involve brutality.”

     I glared.  “Nuh.  Society gave him a pass.  He was getting away with some fucked up shit, just because he’s a brutish overgrown baby, and nobody gives a fuck what people like that do to other poor people.”

     “...Yeah, you’re right.”

     “I know I am.”  I put my nose in the air.  The moment lingered, and I rolled my head to give the neck a stretch.  It was a hard couple of days.  My chin came to rest near my collarbone and I was looking down. With the lights in my living room turned up, my chest was too clear to me.  My sternum was bony, my skin scarred with the ghosts of acne.  I was getting skinnier than usual and I knew the more visible muscles were unfeminine looking.  I pursed my lips and pulled the robe more fully closed.

     When I looked up, I noticed Grime was looking shifty.

     “What’s up, dude?”

     “Oh, sorry.  I shouldn’t be eyeballing my cordial associate.”

     “You were?”

     “I thought you covered up and crossed my arms because you saw my eyes slip, or something?”

     “Huh.  I should keep one out for you.”

     “Excuse me?”

     “An eye.  What did you think I meant?  A titty?”

     He squeezed his eyes.  “This conversation isn’t very cordial.  I’m gonna just, get out of here.”  He stood up to leave.

     I stood up as well, and put an arm on his shoulder.  “You think you’re bad but I think I’m worse.”

     He froze, then turned to me slowly.  “I don’t think I’m bad, just because sometimes I slip up.  Intent has to matter for something.”

     “Does it?”  I pressed my body against his, let the robe fall open a little.  I rested my head on his shoulder.

     “If we do something here, that isn’t a little slip.  That’s just a fuckup.  The way you’ve been?  It can’t be a good idea for you to get with anyone until you calm down.”  He held my shoulders with both hands.

     I stared right into his eyes.  “Maybe true.  But I had an idea the other day and I’m having it again.”

     His grip loosened and his hands hung lower on my arms.  “What idea was that, Courtney?”

     “I think it’s called cowgirl position?”  I let my robe slide down, exposing my chest to him.

     “Mmmm,” he rolled his eyes in thought, clearly having a hard time thinking.  “I guess you seemed like you were doing OK before the police business yesterday…  Is this chill, Courtney?”  His hands latched onto my robe and held me by tugging on it.

     I rubbed his sides.  “Yeah, get on the couch, Graeme.  I’ll get the stuff.  Move it.”  I slapped his ass and went toward my bathroom, leaving him in the living room.

     As I passed through my room, I saw a candle with the Virgin Mary flush against the baseboard - a kitschy bit of decor left behind in the big sneeze.  I didn’t think anything of it, but in the bathroom looking for condoms and lube, I caught myself in the mirror there.  My makeup was a real shitshow, my violet lipstick smeared, my hair just twisted bedhead from hell.

     Something came to me.  I realized something about myself, and as I realized it, I felt like the knowledge could liberate me.

     I pulled my robe shut as I came into the living room, and found Graeme taking off his shoes.  “Put ‘em back on, man!”

     “What’s up?  Don’t you think that’ll look kinda weird?”

     “Not having sex.  I figured something out, Graeme!  I figured something out!  I finally understand.  You understand?”  I waved my hands.

     “No.  Ya lost me, but that’s fine.  Putting ‘em back on.”  He smiled wearily and started putting himself back together.

     “You’re my whore, Graeme!”

     “Uhh… I what?”

     “I have a Madonna-whore complex!  You’re my whore.”

     “Oh god, what does this even mean?  Do I wanna know?”  He finished putting his shoes on and scooted back to the far end of the couch.

     I came a little closer, then jumped back into my end of the couch.  I was still talking with my hands.  This was important, god damn it.  “Right, have you heard of it?”

     “Yeah, I think I understand what it means, but what do you mean?”

     “I was starting to feel really romantic about someone, and then that first night with you, I was in a position to be sexy, and you were there, and like - I was acting the ho, but I put that on you.  You were an outlet for lust, you were my dirty place to be, so the romantic side could stay pure, holy, right?”

     “Aww, this is just… Well, I guess it’s more of the same.  I’m just gonna give you a cordial good night.”

     “Lemme finish, dude!”  I grabbed his t-shirt.

     He didn’t love that.  “OK.”  He stood up, walked behind the couch, and leaned on the back, looking expectant.

     “So I fucked up my romantic situation because I was putting my lust in the wrong place, but I don’t have to, do I?  It’s like, the end of the Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, when the shrinks figure out the main guy’s delusion is, and they say, ‘Now we can cure him.’  I’m curable, right?”

     He nodded, but was telegraphing his frustration.

     I kept on.  “What do you do, to make it so your love and lust line up?”

     “I guess you have to love the person you’re lusting after, or lust for the person you’re loving after.”

     “Yes!”

     “I thought you said you’d messed up that situation.  Also, you said you couldn’t love me.  If this is a lesson to help you fly right in the future, cool.  If you think this can fix where you are now, are you so sure?”

     I was shut down.  He had my number.  I sank into the couch, just looking at my knees making little tents in the bathrobe.  “Uh, yeah… I guess you’re right.  Man, I’m sorry, but… good night.  Go play a video game or something.”

     “You too, Courtney.  Really, I hope you figure your stuff out.”

     “Thanks.”  Fuck off, I thought.

                                                        ***

     The window in my living room almost completely sealed shut again, but a sliver of a crack was all it took to create howling whistles and uncanny drafts.  The wind seemed to pass through anything I jammed in the opening, like everything I owned was as much of a ghost as I was.

     Despite the lack of a door on my bedroom, the wall did slightly muffle the sound in there.  To replace the lost bed, I dragged a couch in that room.  It was a depressing scene of carnage I couldn’t bring myself to repair.  The furniture was mostly toppled, tatters of posters and clothing and more were strewn about the place.  The hours I spent in my bedroom (couchroom?) were of the head-buried-in-pillow and music-blasting nature.

     I didn’t have to think about the neighbors much where noise was concerned because the construction of the building included concrete between every floor and every unit.  Sometimes when you touch a wall, walk across a floor, look around yourself with unfocused eyes, you can sense the underlying structure of a place - the bones of the building.  The Myrmidon Apartments reminded me of a wall of cinderblocks, the way they are shaped like open concrete boxes beams between the compartments.  People’s lives were tucked into each hole in the cinderblock like filed memos, waiting to get bumped to the shredder or the abyss of permanent storage.

     In a building with that solid construction, we should never have felt tremors.  Maybe on a higher floor, where the great length of the building reduced the strength of the materials, where the power of artifice was put to shame by the power of nature, of atmospheric pressures that dwarfed everything.

     We shouldn’t have felt anything down on the twelfth floor, but the building was allergic to us, and the medicine was not completely effective.  Deandre ended up having to keep the floor waxer, we all had to take every opportunity to snake more meds to grind into our floors.

     In all of that, we only tended to the places we lived in or traveled.  Room 1207 was left to fester.  With no one in it, would it have lesser allergies anyway, as I had supposed?  Or would the allergies suppressed through medicine seek an outlet there, warping it more than the rest of the floor combined?  I didn’t have the courage to check it out, no longer going in there to chill.  I spent my time with neighbors or smashing my head in a pillow and listening to music.

     Despite the fact we were still catching little tremor and troubles, we could live in the building without fear of getting tossed in the night.  We’d beaten the allergy thing, and it made us feel a bit more confident.  Confident we could keep this scam going.  There were other aspects of life that kept us down.  Patrick and Grime has issues at work, Patrick had to worry about Perry.

     And I couldn’t stop thinking about Leimomi.  It made me feel like a creep.  But then, I knew something then I hadn’t known before.  I felt like I had Grime-proofed my brains.  I could do right by her, if I could get a chance.  I went over the pitch in my head at least fifty thousand times.

     But I also tried to devote equal time to creep-proofing myself.  What would a creep do?  Don’t do that, Courtney.  A creep would stare at her all sad in the rear view mirror.  OK, too late to not do that.  A creep would keep trying to message her, talk to her, be around her, past the welcome point.  In all my twisting, I did my best to avoid being around her more than an incidental pass in the hall, or at Marcie’s apartment.  Good job.

     I was succeeding at non-creeping, but I was going out of my mind.  I threw myself into focusing on other people’s lives whenever possible.  One day, I was at Deandre’s place, cleaning it up.  He insisted he didn’t need that, and I insisted that I needed something to do.

     After I finished sweeping up the place (soft broom to avoid stripping the medicine wax), I sprawled on one of his couches, across from him.

     He reached across the coffee table to pass me a beer and then leaned back with his own.  “Good job, mom.  You mind if I ask something?”

     “Uh,” I sipped the beer, “Depends on what you’re asking?”

     “Nothing personal.  But why do you do this to yourself?  This place is a flophouse.  It could look like shit, it doesn’t matter.”

     “Aww!  It shouldn’t have to be a flophouse.  Can’t it feel like home, at least a little?”

     “Nuh.  If I let myself think of it like that, you know they’d bust us out like the next fuckin’ day.”

     I sighed.  “True.”

     “So that’s all there is to it?  Trying to feel like you ain’t homeless?”

     I gave him an acid look.  “You know there’s more, but I’m not dumping that on you today.  You made me feel like a loser last time I used you for that.”

     He sighed and put his feet up.  “Yeah, sorry about that.  How ‘bout if I dump for a minute?  Even up.”

     “Dump away, Deandre.”  I drank more beer.

     “You ever wonder about other people’s romantic shit, when you’re stuck in your own?”

     “I guess I don’t.  You think we all have something going on?  Or are you stuck in your own too?”

     “Stuck.  You ever think about if you’re somebody else’s romantic shit?”

     “Oh god, I don’t want to think about that.”

     “Haha, sorry.  It goes around though.  I think that Olivia baby might be hot for me.  I hate it when kids get it for adults.  There are too many of us that are down, and I don’t wanna think about that.”

     “Sorry, man.  You have to set her straight?”

     “Naw, she ain’t sayin’ nothin’.  I could just tell though.”

     “And if you said something first, hell embarrassment.”

     “Right.  Anyhow, that ain’t what I wanna talk about.  I got a dude out there.”  He casually gestured to the window.  A dude in the sky?  No, in the city.

     “Oh?  But there’s trouble in paradise?”

     “Yeah.  He’s hot, we out there living like two kings.  Just lookin’ cool as shit.  So even those homophobic niggas respect us.  And at the end of the day, we get to fuck too.  Win win, right?”

     “I don’t wanna say it.”

     “Yeah, you know it though.  They think of me as a woman - as his woman.  And maybe he does too.”

     “Oh god that’s toxic.  What are you gonna do, man?”

     “Blow my brains out?  Fuck if I know.”

     “Oh, that hurts.  That hurts.  I care about you, dude.”

     “I’m sorry.  I’m just talkin’ shit.  I ain’t gonna do that.  But it feels bad.”

     “I can only imagine.”

     “Did it help you feel a little better though, thinkin’ about somebody else’s problems?”

     “Yeah.  Yeah, and that’s why I’m cleaning here, isn’t it?  Sorry.  I don’t wanna be greedy.”

     “It’s OK, but now it’s my turn to get a taste of that distraction.  What’s going on with you and that girl?”

     I buried my head in a pillow, but knew he wouldn’t be able to hear me, so I twisted my mouth into view.  “Nothing.  I’m stupid in love and we haven’t done anything since the blow up.”

     “That ain’t all there is to it, is it?”

     I looked at him timidly.  “Yeah.  I’ve been thinkin’ about it all day long, all the time.  I know what I want to say.  I’m done with that whole Grime thing now, for real.  All I want is her.”

     “I seem to remember you had some reservations before, but they’re all gone now?”

     “What?  Reservations?”

     “Like, maybe she’s too inexperienced ’n’ shit?”

     “Oh.”  I hadn’t thought about that in a while.  “I guess all it took for me to get clarity on my feelings is losing her.  How important is it to be all prudent and careful and make sure you do everything right all the time?  Yeah, it’s important for some reasons sometimes, but I let that get in the way of something great.”

     “Did you though?  You gotta lose it to enjoy yourself, but at the end of the day you gotta be real.  You gotta realize all that romantic shit is a dream.  We’re all alone in this life, no matter what we got.”

     I smashed a pillow into my face and cried a moment.

     His voice softened.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean shit by that.  It’s OK.���

     I wiped my face on the pillow and calmed down.  “Ugh, it’s not you.  No, that was good advice.  Gotta be cool.  This is me being cool.”  I sat up, grabbed the can off the table and finished drinking it.

     “So cool.  You wanna go to lunch, mom?  I got a few bucks.  Hurricane’s got chicken strips.”

     “Yeah, that would be great.  Maybe we can talk about sports instead.”

     He laughed.  “Yeah, fuckin’ sports.”

     On the way through the lobby, we ran into Sharon.  She reminded me my name was Maria last time I talked to her, which had me worried she was going to follow through with the getting to know people game.  But then she got distracted and let slip just how much work the property company was putting on her.  It left us feeling safe.  She was never going to have the time to find us out.

     There we were, a couple of trans nogoodniks, in gay love with heartache-inducing people.  I was in a pride baby doll tee and crappy around-the-house clothes, but did have my makeup and jewelry on.  He was in dapper pinstripe pants, jordans, and a greenish silver collared shirt with the sleeves rolled.  It was overcast but warm, with only a few random drops of rain.  Not worth an umbrella.

     I liked Deandre.  If I was a mom, he was a good son.  Not the son that makes six figures and buys mom a mansion.  He was the son that would probably do prison time, but never for anything truly evil.  At least, not that I’d be able to see through my pride and affection.

     We walked less than ten blocks to the diner.  It wasn’t great, but it was an institution, provided a service at a price that was headed for extinction in the neighborhood.  It was a place to sit down and get served food for less than your whole paycheck, without the glossed over prison cafeteria feel of a fast food place.

     We came in from the daylight and a dispassionate youth saw us to a table.  I put my elbows on the table.  He put an arm over the back of his seat and stretched.  We waited for our drinks in relative quiet. I tore up a napkin, making sure the pieces fell in a neat pile so I could cover it up with my hands when the youth got back.  She arrived and we ordered - Deandre with the chicken strips and fries, me with a BLT.  I knew I couldn’t eat the whole thing but it’s what I felt like tasting.

     When we were alone, I remembered what we were supposed to be talking about.  “Fucking sports.  You dress sporty sometimes.  You into that?”

     He laughed.  “No.  I know enough to hold a conversation, but only ’cause I have to.  How about you?  Any interest in kickin’ balls?”

     “Oh god.  Bad memories.”  I waved my fingers to dispel them.  “No, I don’t know anything about sports.  What else do people talk about?”

     “The weather, but that just turns into that butt-ass joke, ‘don’t like the weather?’”

     “...‘Wait five minutes.’  It is to laugh.”

     “Yeah.”  He glanced to the side, contemplated.

     “Oh, usually when I’m at a place to eat, I’ll get to talking about the place itself, other times I’ve eaten there, how it compares to other spots, that kinda shit.  What do you think?”

     “Oh yeah.  Why not?  This place sucks.  It’s funny though, that makes it like, everyone has stories about coming here when you fucked up or having a shit time.”

     “Haha, funny you should mention that...”

     We spoke on it for a time.

     After he learned about every time I’d crash landed at the Hurricane - and I’d learned about his - we talked about food in general.  Deandre felt like he hadn’t eaten anything truly good in years, like eating out was an quest for an experience that might never be had.  I also revealed that I was rather particular about food, but didn’t have anything so grandiose or amusing to say about it.

     I finished my food and put the remainder in a box to go.  Deandre finished eating all of his food around the same time.  He leaned back and I leaned back.  Time to chill for another hour of bullshitting.  It’s tradition, when the restaurant is not super crowded.  I didn’t know that with just a few little words, things were about to get fucked up.

     “Where’d you get your name from?”

     I still didn’t know, just took it as intended - a casual curiosity.  “Favorite musician when I was younger.”

     “Kourtney Kardashian?  Courteney Cox?  Courtney B. Vance?”

     “What’s their music like?”

     “The KCV Trio?  Pimpin’.  What’s yours sound like?”

     “Courtney Love.  She’s more than just Kurt’s wife.  She’s kinda messed up so I don’t like to follow the news on her, but her music means a lot to me.  I hope she’s doing well.”

     “Oh.  Yeah.  Huh.”  He turned it over in his head.  “The racism makes it hard to like her, doesn’t it?”

     “Oh no.”  I said it casual, but this was the first hint of alarm in the conversation.

     “Yeah, I heard it was pretty bad.  I try to look too close at the people I like either.”

     I felt like my eyes were shrinking, my head swimming.  Why did I feel like that?  “I shouldn’t even ask, should I?”

     “You didn’t ..?  Yeah, you don’t wanna hear about that.  Forget I said anything.”

     “Haha, yeah...”

     I didn’t forget though.  I claimed I felt ill - true - and got myself home in a hurry.  I needed to be alone.

                                                        ***

     Read the next chapter here.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

ScSi

Eren didn't remember anything about what Isabel and Levi talked about, only that Isabel was gone now... when he really needed a friend. Olou had succumbed to his wounds. Despite Hanji's best efforts, he still passed away... and all the kind words towards him now sat heavily in his gut. He'd been so sure that Olou would survive. He'd fought hard, hanging on for over a week but infection had set in, his condition spiralling after that. Tonight everyone was drinking in "celebration" of the memory of those that had been lost. Not up for the company, Eren had swiped a couple bottles of the stuff the officers had been drinking, and holed up in his room. But the more he drank, the worst he felt. It was like some massive abyss had opened inside of him, sucking all the happiness from the world with it. He was on his second bottle before his friends found him, having swiped their own bottles of booze. Though his room was far too small, Jean, Connie, Sasha, Mikasa, Armin and Krista were all there with him now. A few other recruits had somehow managed to end up there too. While the company was kind of nice, no one actually understood. He'd respected Olou. He was a crucial part of the team, and now he was gone forever. It wasn't fair. Olou deserved to live. Not like him... As the night slipped away his friends gradually left, due to the fact Levi's room was so close to his. More than a little drunk, he didn't even know what he was doing or saying, only that he didn't want to be alone. Not anymore. He wanted someone to want him and to care about him... if it was just for the night. Laying back on his bed, he felt the weight shift as some climbed in next to him. With his eyes still closed, lips ghosted against his as if he'd voiced his need for contact outloud. Not caring who it was, he kept his eyes closed and gave up, the kissing slowly growing more heated until the pair of them were grinding up against each other, Eren panting for more as they fumbled each other's pants open, at least it was a guy... that was something... palming at his partner's erection, he mewed as his own fisted roughly. He needed more. He wanted this empty feeling filled, bucking their hips up against each other, he was so close when they were interrupted "What the fuck do you two think you're doing?!" The kiss was broken, the warm body pulled away from him by Levi of all people "Are you shitty brats seriously drunk?! You. Get out!" There was a mumbled "Yes, sir", before the thud of stumbling steps left the roof "Are you serious?" Panting, Eren couldn't care less if Levi could see his tenting erection. If Levi liked to interrupt his "fun", then he could see what he was missing "What does it even matter?" "What do you mean, "What does it matter?". Your body isn't normal. You can't just let someone between your legs because you're sad" "Whatever" "Eren..." "What the fuck do you expect me to do?! If... if I'd done better or been better, Olou might have survived! Now he's dead! I hate this! I hate being this monster! I hate it!" Breaking down into sobs his whole body shook, finally he curled into himself as he screamed into his pillows "I hate this! I hate it!" "Eren..." "Don't say my name! Don't say it like you care! No one fucking cares!" There was a snarl, then Eren was being lifted from his bed "Olou died. He died and it's fucking shitty, but we all tried our hardest to save him. Hanji gave her everything. Petra stayed by his non-stop. We're all fucking hurting" "I'm so tired of hurting" "We all are" Levi carried him from his room, the walk was short before he was lowered back down again "Stay still, you can't sleep like that" For a second Eren's heart leapt, before he realised what Levi meant. Stripping off his pants and boots, Levi then covered him with his blankets "S-sir?" "I'm not going to leave you alone tonight" Passing out in his captains bed, Eren had no idea things were going to be worse once morning came. * Flustered, Levi watched Eren sleeping in his bed. He'd walked in some heavy petting, after catching Eren's scent in the hallway, and damn near imploded on the spot. With his legs spread, Eren and the male Corps member were in their own world, clumsily and sloppily palming at each without caring about the fact the door was wide open. He felt... enraged. Enraged that someone else was touching Eren. And betrayed by his emotions because he knew how badly he wanted to kill the kid touching Eren. They hadn't talked much since Isabel had possessed Eren, but the kid had done all his duties faultlessly. He'd thought he was ok, but Olou's death was hitting all of them hard. Saying goodbye was never nice. But perhaps because he'd spoken to Isabel, the pain wasn't exactly what he'd thought it would be. Olou had died with Petra by his side. Knowing he was loved and respected, and that his body would find its way back to his family. Levi had hoped to talk to Eren, but the brat had passed out on him before he could. Waking Eren, the boy looked like shit. Yawning softly as he crawled from Levi's bed with a small whine "What happened?" "You had a bit too much to drink last night, but I don't have time to fill you in on the particulars" "I... don't think I like alcohol" "You should definitely stay away from it. We need to get you showered and down to Hanji" "What? Why don't to Hanji?" "During yesterday's wake, we have two government officials arrive. They want to run tests again" Eren's already pale face lost its remaining colour. The teen clamped a hand to his mouth as he rushed to the bathroom, his sound of wretching summing up Levi's feelings on the matter entirely. The two officials had already made themselves at home in Hanji's office, Hanji having been evicted to the hallway where she playing with pony tail nervously. Clearing his throat to give her the heads up that they were approaching, the woman pushed herself away from the wall with her foot "Eren! I'm so sorry. I didn't know they were coming" "Not so loud Hanji. He discovered the delights of alcohol last night" "Ooooh! Is he having his first hangover? I hope you've made him drink plenty of water" "No. I thought I'd just shove him into your office without anything to eat or drink" "Levi!" "He's joking Hanji..." Truthfully, he'd tried to make Eren eat and drink something, but the boy had nibbled on some bread before deciding he couldn't eat "Do you know what they have planned for him?" "No. I'm not allowed to see any of their test results or even be present. Also, Erwin was looking for you" "For me, or for Eren" "For you" Shuffling past him, Eren let Hanji pull him into a hug "You should go see Erwin, I'll be ok" "Eren, you don't have to put up with this. You can demand they stop at anytime. Or call for me, or Erwin. You don't deserve to go through everything alone" "It'll be fine... I'll be fine. Where am I going?" "They're waiting in my office" "Ok... I guess I'll see you both later" The kid looked like a kicked puppy as he let go of Hanji, the look making Levi wish he could steal him away from the pain to come, but apparently Shitty Eyebrows wanted him. Staying long enough for Eren to disappear from his sight, Levi then turned to leave "Let me know the moment they release him" "Will do. I'm worried though. His next heat..." "You're worried they'll send him into heat early?" "Yes. There's a house Erwin wants Eren to use for his heats, but if he goes into heat here... There's nothing prepared" "Make a list of what you think he'll need. I'll take care of it once I've talked to Erwin" "I don't think he'll give you permission to act alone" "I don't care what he wants. We both know Eren's going to be tortured again, and we both know he won't be fit to return to active duty immediately" "Oh! So you're going to take him down to the house?" "Sometimes I wonder how someone so smart, can take so long to catch on" "Did you just admit I was smart?! Aww, Levi! Come here" Flipping Hanji off, Levi stormed away before she hug him. He didn't understand why she always had to be like this. Couldn't she just not make a big fuss about these things? Levi's lack of sleep had his legs aching as he marched along the hall to Erwin's office. His mind was a whirl of thoughts, most over the guilt he felt over leaving Eren in the Governments hands. Reaching Erwin's door, he knocked light and let himself in "Levi. Come in" Raising his arm, Levi shook his head "I'm not hungry. Hanji said you wanted to see me?" "I have a mission for you" "For me? Or for Eren and I?" "Eren will not be available until after his heat" "What? Why?" "The Government has been working on a potential suppressant. If all goes well, his heat won't happen at all" "They found a way to stop them?" "Potentially. As I said, I have a mission for you and for the rest of the squad" "We just Olou" "I know, and as unfortunate as it is, we can't delay" "What about Eren? What if he shifts?" "I've been assured he will be sedated, not killed" Because that was going to work... not... "Levi, we can't afford for you to sit this one out. There was recently reports of intelligent werewolves, other than Eren. Naturally, as this information has come second hand from individuals in the Underground, we don't expect it to be accurate, yet we're on official warning over Eren's actions" "They're using the fact he shifted and saved lives to make you chase after your own tail again" "We aren't in a position to say no" "That's why Eren's off being tortured again, and we're rubbing our noses in the lap of the Government like a bitch in heat" "Levi. None of us want this for Eren. If though Hanji removed his womb, he still goes into heat and I know I don't have to remind you how problematic that is" "And what if does go into heat? What if I'm sent into whatever that was again" "Hanji is calling it a blood rut. You were consumed with both the need for blood and to breed" "It sounds fucking disgusting" "Take it up with her. I've prepared extra vials for your trip" "If I'm going that far, I'm going to need money" "What for?" "Information isn't free. I'm not going to get anything out of anyone without a generous amount of money. Besides, Hanji needs supplies" "I'll need a full report for reimbursement. Receipts too" "I know how to do this, but you're not going to be getting receipts from the underground" Slowly opening his bottom drawer, Erwin pulled out a coin pouch, throwing it on the table with a sigh "Take whoever you need. Petra might wish to visit her family" "Will we be escorting Olou's body?" "No. He will escorted separately" "She should be with him. She knows the family. I'll take both Eld and Gunther. The three of us will we enough" "You have my permission to embark once prepared" Erwin offered his arm again, Levi walking across the room to take it in his hands, his teeth sliding into Erwin's arm "Drink what you need" If he did that, Erwin would be drained. Maybe he should just drain his commander anyway? They'd hardly been acting like the friends they were supposed to be... he wasn't entirely innocent, but even this mission felt like something thrown together to seperate him from Eren. Though that may have been his own paranoia. * The Underground never changed, it was still the shitty cesspool he remembered it to be. The streets were clogged with rubbish, the drains all blocked and the aqueduct running through the middle of the place was choked with rubbish and river weeds, while its water was an unhealthy green. Nothing ever changed here, and nothing ever would. No one had the strength of will to rise above and any who were idiotic enough to think they could change things, were the first to find a knife in the back. Their bodies would be picked clean, clothes and all, before being left to rot like a pile of trash, that even their family disowned. With all things laid so open, there was little wonder why Eld and Gunther were both armed to the teeth. They'd arrived in the Underground four days prior, and despite having spent a generous amount of Erwin's money, all they'd learnt was their were still people stupid enough to try their luck outside the walls. Honestly, Levi wanted to wash his hands on all of this and return the castle, as all he could think was that Eren was being tortured while he was in a hell of his own, but Eld and Gunther were persistent and insistent. They'd covered over half the usual dives, and Levi was absolutely sure they weren't about to hear anything magically useful. Still, here they were at another one. Levi somehow locked in a glaring contest with the bar keeper, who had nothing to say to a dog of the military. Even if pulling a knife had brought him up short, the man was staying tight lipped "Do you, or do you not know anything about recent werewolf attacks" Spitting in his face, the man laughed openly. With a fluid move, Levi pinned the man's left hand to bar, cutting off his little finger with a satisfying ting when the blade hit the metal of the bar "Remember anything yet" "I ain't got nothing to tell you!" Screaming it now, Levi rolled his eyes as he hefted a sigh "Then who does" "Ke-nny. He's the one shooting his mouth" "Kenny?" "The reaper" "He's dead" "No he ain't!" "I killed Kenny with my own hands. Whoever that is, it's not Kenny" "He calls himself Kenny!" Whimper pathetically, Levi released his hand. The man pulling it up to his chest "I suggest you give me some real information if you want to keep all the rest of your fingers" "I don't got anything else to say! You know what it's like here! Without rumours, this place would be too boring to stomach" "So you're saying everything werewolf related is a joke?" "Them up there were talking about it" "And Kenny?" "He's the one who goes out the walls!" Whatever this man had been drinking, it was clearly killing off whatever was left in the braincell department. He probably couldn't wipe his own arse. So much for the bravado he'd tried to portray. With his ruined reputation, this place would probably be looted and burnt to the ground by the end of the night "You're lucky I don't take another finger for wasting my time" "Sir?" "We're leaving. There's nothing here" "What about Kenny?" "He's long gone. You're free to stay if you really want" Returning to sunshine, it felt like his skin was trying to shed it outer layer. The filth attached its self within seconds of stepping foot down there, and it felt like no matter how many times he scrubbed, he'd never be clean. As Eld and Gunther split off from him, Levi returned to the room he was using at the Military base, impressed to find the supplies he'd requested had already been delivered. Most of them were for Eren, and to stock the house he'd used for his future heats. The blankets, pillow and soap he already purchased sat almost forgotten in the corner of his room. He'd taken his time on the first day at the Capital to make sure he'd have the money to buy Eren nice things... nicer things. Things the kid would like and would help to assure him that he was indeed human. He wasn't going to stay with the kid for his heat, but he could make sure Eren was doing better mentally before he entered it. An hour later the clothes he'd been wearing were in the trash, a fresh uniform felt almost like heaven in comparison to those disease riddled things. Sitting on his bed, he was checking his correspondence. There was nothing of real interest. Erwin had sent a letter saying Eren was still being held, but he hadn't shifted. Olou's body had been returned to his family and Petra was taking a weeks leave. The woman would be rendezvousing with them at the end of the week... meaning he was now stuck for another 2 days. Fucking Shitty Eyebrows and fucking Petra. And fuck the bartender for bringing up Kenny. If he could forget the man, he would in a heartbeat... He could just picture Kenny's smug face when he came face to face with whoever had taken up his name. That creepy smile. The laugh. The double tap to heart for insulting him. Everything about the man had revolted him and maybe that was why he was half tempted to track down whoever was using his name. Just to see the difference with his own eyes. Sighing to himself, he forced himself off the bed and over to the desk, he needed to pen a reply back to Erwin. With next to nothing to do, the next two days passed exceedingly slowly. His presence had brought out the weirdos of the Military base, many of them wanting to ask his advice. Eld and Gunther had both found it funny until he'd starting sending them pair of them to answer any all questions, filling their schedules to the point where his own was empty. The only thing of any importance that he'd accomplished in those two days was picking up a few nice tins of black tea, and new fine china cup. * Petra talked almost nonstop during the ride back to the castle. The woman in much higher spirits than expected, leaving him wanted to yell at her to shut up. Erwin hadn't replied to his last message, and fucked up dream about Kenny had left him feeling on edge. Next time, Erwin could send someone else to the Underground, because it had been a colossal waste of his time. He could have literally been watching paint dry and it would have been more enjoyable, not to mention he wouldn't have had to destroy a set of clothes of it. Nudging his heels, his horse broke into gallop, the wind feeling refreshing as it chased the last lingering scents of septic from his nose. Fuck the Underground. Having dropped back to trot, Petra moved to his side again. The woman frowning at him as if he'd done something wrong "Sir?" "What is it?" "Eld and Gunther mentioned Eren was being experimented on again. Do you think he'll be ok?" "No" "No, you don't?" "No. I'm expecting it to be a shit storm when we get home" "Do you know what they're doing to him?" "They have some procedure that is supposed to stop his heat" "Is that safe?" "How am I supposed to know?" "It's just... Eren is such a kind kid" "He's certainly worked his way into your heart" "He gave everything he could to try and help Olou. I wish I knew how to thank him" "Like that" "Like what?" "Eren's pretty thick. If you want to thank him, than you actually have to use the words" "He seemed annoyed the last time I thanked him" "The fact you did so 8 times had nothing to do with it" "Maybe. I still wish I could give him something" "If you really want to give him something, just say thanks and leave it at that. And whatever you do, don't got giving him anything alcoholic" Petra giggled, covering her mouth with her hand "You could have been handled that situation better" "He told you?" "No, you scared the hell out of the soldier he was with. The poor guy was running down the hall with his pants around his ankles" Levi wished he'd seen that, instead he been too focused on the fact that someone other than him had been touching Eren, then forcing the kid to spend the night sleeping in his bed, attempting to erase the shitty smell of the unknown man's arousal "He had it coming" "Eren's body might be different, but you could have left them alone" "And what if he bit his lip and shifted, or what if he'd had a panic attack and shifted?" "I'm pretty sure if being interrupted by you didn't upset him, nothing would" "The kid was wasted. He pretty much passed out as soon as his pants and boots were off" He sounded way too bitter for it to be passed off as simple annoyance "Do you think they'll become something more?" "It was just a drunk hook up" "With his friend" "Wait? He knew the guy?" That... that... Levi didn't have a word for exactly how he was feeling over this. Drunk and random hookups were pretty common, but hooking up with someone you knew and someone you were friends with. It was more than petty jealousy that was causing his heart to race, his chest to tighten and his reins to snap in his hands. It was something vile and evil. "I don't know the boy's name, I've seen him with Armin and Mikasa before, so perhaps they'd know. Do you think they're together? Maybe he'd like to spend Eren's heat with him?" "It was just a fucking hook up. There's nothing there and no one will be spending Eren's heat with him. If you have that much free time on your hands to dribble this shit, fall back and check on Eld and Gunther" Fuck. Fucking Eren. This was what the shitty brat did to him. He ruined his carefully constructed facade and reputation in a manner of minutes. Stroking the base embers of his desires into an inferno... without even being into the same space as him. Rather than looking hurt, Petra just shook her head with another giggle, shooting him a knowing look before dropping back to the supply cart. Fuck.