#I lost my dignity writing these horrors.

[beanscool]

Grrr... 1/10!1!1!1 Where is straight cis 9 ft long blonde hair, blue orbs, 3 ft tall, slim, petite y/n!1!+1!! Outrageous. /J

BOOKTOK GIRLIES! How much SPICE🔥 is in this book?! /s

[mohammedaldeeb]

A Humanitarian Appeal from the Depths of Suffering🥹:

The War on Gaza, Our Losses, and the Struggles We Endure

In these difficult and painful times😔, I find it hard to find words that truly express the depth of the suffering I, 💔😓

along with my family, am going through. I am writing this message from a place of desperation and need, as a doctor working in a hospital in Gaza. Life here has become a constant battle for survival, and each day brings new challenges that test our will to continue😭.

We were once living a peaceful and stable life🙂, building our hopes and dreams😥, working towards a future for ourselves and our loved ones🥺.

However, the recent war on Gaza has turned our world upside down😢. I have lost my job💔,

and with it, my only source of income, due to the destruction of the facilities where I worked😭.

The physical destruction around us has been devastating😓, and many projects I was involved in to support the families of patients have come to a halt😢. The economic losses are staggering, and the road to recovery seems almost impossible😥.

The war on Gaza has not only taken our peace of mind but has also brought with it an unbearable level of suffering😓.

The cost of living has skyrocketed,

and we are struggling to meet even the most basic needs of daily life😣.

The situation has become unbearable, and it feels like we’re trapped in a vicious cycle of poverty, fear, and despair.

How can a family survive when they cannot even afford food, let alone the necessities of life?😭😥💔

As a doctor, I stand at the frontline, trying to save lives amidst the wreckage of war😢.

I treat the injured, manage critical cases, and do my best to bring comfort to those who need it most. 🥹

However, at the same time, I face personal struggles that are just as overwhelming😢. The hospital is in dire need of medical supplies and personnel, and we are doing all we can to save lives with limited resources. But the pain of seeing my own family suffering while I try to help others is a constant burden.

How can I help those in need when I cannot even provide for my loved ones?😣😣

Today, as I face this immense struggle😔,

I turn to you, dear reader, with a plea for help🙏🏻😥.

This is not just a request for personal assistance🙏🏻🥹, but a desperate call for hope and a chance to rebuild my life and support my family.

I need your help to share my story😓, so that it reaches as many people as possible.

Your support, through donations and sharing this story, will allow me to help my family escape the horrors of war and start a new life abroad, where we can live in safety and dignity🙏🏻🥹❤️.

I need the resources to travel abroad to continue my education l😔and provide a future for my family🙏🏻😓. Pursuing my studies and advancing my career in medicine is my way of ensuring that I can make a lasting difference, both for myself and for the people of Gaza. But I cannot do this alone.

The funds I am seeking will help me cover travel expenses, medical costs for my family, and the basic needs that we are struggling to meet each day😥.

The financial burden is overwhelming😭,

and without your support, I fear that my dreams, and the future of my family, will slip further out of reach😥😭💔.

Every donation, no matter how small, will make a difference.

Every act of kindness, every person who shares this message, will help light the way for us in this dark time🙏🏻😢.

I humbly ask you to help me spread this story. Share this story with your friends, family, and networks. Let it reach those who have the means and the will to help🥹🥺❤️.

Together, we can make a difference. Your kindness, your generosity, and your willingness to stand by us will mean the world💝🥹🙏🏻.

In these dark times, solidarity is the light that can guide us😔💔. Your support is not just an act of charity; it is an act of humanity❤️❤️.

You are not only helping an individual, but you are also supporting a family in dire need of hope and a better future😃❤️.

I will forever be grateful for any assistance you can provide, whether it’s a financial contribution, sharing this story, or offering a kind word of encouragement.

Your help will give us the strength to continue, and it will remind us that in the midst of all this suffering, there is still hope, there is still kindness, and there are still people who care😃❤️.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart❤️❤️, for your time, your attention, and your compassion.

Together, we can create a future where we can live with dignity, rebuild what has been lost😔, and give our children the hope they deserve💝🥹🙏🏻.

Solidarity is Hope, and Helping is Life💚❤️💛🖤🇵🇸 .

vetted by \

@90-ghost (number 212)

@mangocheesecakes ,

@sayruq

@el-shab-hussein

@nabulsi

[spacelazarwolf]

apparently a bunch of ppl on social media are trying to call for a boycott of rick riordan because of this statement in a blog post:

Becky and I are just back from a busy weekend with events at the Boston Book Festival and New York Comic-Con.

Before I get into that, however, some words to acknowledge the ongoing horrors in Israel and Gaza. As many of you may know, I am no longer on social media. My accounts post only updates on my books and related projects. I do not read posts, reply to posts, or share my thoughts about world events on those forums. That doesn’t mean I don’t have strong feelings and reactions. It means I am offline as completely as possible, except for the occasional blog post like this one.

I will say this: Over the last eighteen years, I have received many fan letters from young readers, both Israeli and Palestinian, who often told me that my books helped them escape the fear, grief and anxiety they were dealing with at the time. Some had lost family members to violence. Some were writing while in the distance they could hear explosions, gunfire, and the launching of rockets. They used my books as a way to escape into another world, where the monsters were fictional, and where demigods usually saved the day. While I am always glad that my books can help young readers find joy during difficult times, my heart breaks every time I hear about the things they have to deal with. I am grief-stricken by the horrific events now unfolding, especially because I know that they are part of a long historic pattern that has been robbing too many children of their childhood and perpetuating hatred for far too long.

I am also quite aware that when anyone, myself included, tries to speak about this issue, the reader is waiting to pounce, thinking, “Yes, but whose side are you on?” That is exactly the wrong question. If there are two sides to this issue, those sides are not Palestinian/Israeli or Muslim/Jewish. The two sides are humanitarian and dehumanizing. Dehumanizing has a long evil history. It is appealing and easy to buy into, because humans are tribal animals. We are hardwired to think in terms of ‘us’ versus ‘them.’ We are the real humans, the good guys, the ones with God on our side. Those other people are evil monsters who don’t deserve empathy. Hate mongers have thrived on dehumanizing for as long as there have been humans. It provides them with a purpose, a way to rally support, power, and scapegoats. It is easy to point to atrocities committed by our enemies, while justifying or minimizing the atrocities committed by ourselves or our allies.

Humanitarianism is a much harder sell. It requires us to empathize, to see other groups of people as equally deserving of dignity and quality of life. It requires not always putting ourselves and our needs first. But in the long run, humanitarianism is our only hope. If violence could end violence, if we could put an end to “those other people” once and for all, human history would read very differently than it does.

So yes, I am appalled by the Hamas attacks on Israeli civilians. I am appalled by the suffering of Palestinian civilians in Gaza. Both things can be true. Both things must be true. My thoughts are with all the people who have died, who have lost loved ones, who have had their worlds and their lives shattered, especially the children. More death and violence will not break this cycle, which has been going on for generations. There is no military solution. Even since I first wrote the post, only twenty-four hours ago, the Israeli government’s brutal retaliation against the entire population of Gaza has reached genocidal proportions. This is not only an atrocity. It is folly. Answering misery with misery only creates more fertile ground for extremism, dehumanizing the “other side,” letting hate mongers thrive, stay in power, and reduce us all to our most monstrous impulses. The only real solution is treating each other like equally worthy human beings, and negotiating a peace that allows all parties a chance to live in security and dignity, with hopes for a future that does not include bombs and rockets and gunfire. This means security and support for Israel, yes. It also means a secure Palestine which is allowed to get the international aid and recognition it needs to build a viable state.

Do I think that will happen? Unfortunately, no. Humans are simply too selfish, too ready to blame “the other” for all their problems, too ready to dehumanize, though I also believe, perhaps paradoxically, that most people just want to live their lives in peace and have a chance for their children to have a brighter future. The problem is when we don’t allow other people to have those same hopes and dreams — when it becomes a false choice of us versus them.

What can I do? I will continue to write books that I hope will give young readers some joy. I will resist the urge to demonize entire groups of people. I will call for less violence, not more violence. And when asked whose side I am on, I will tell you I am on the side of humanitarianism.

So with that said, I return to the world of books . . .

honestly, if you have a problem with this statement, it’s probably because he’s talking about you. this is exactly what legitimate activists (as in not just random westerners who share social media posts but on-the-ground activists who are doing real work) have been saying for decades. and i think all this really speaks to just how disconnected a lot of westerners who claim to be pro palestinian are from those activists.

if you can’t read a statement that says “i am on the side of humanitarianism and less violence” without immediately jumping to cancel them, you are the problem being discussed in the above statement.

[justforbooks]

Teri Garr

American actor who brought superb comic timing to her roles in film classics such as Young Frankenstein and Tootsie

The American actor Teri Garr, who has died aged 79, once said: “I’ve spent a lot of time clawing my way to the middle.” That remark could have sprung from the lips of any of the fizzy, dizzy, nakedly neurotic women who were her speciality from the mid-1970s onwards.

In Mel Brooks’s horror pastiche Young Frankenstein (1974), she was Inga, the bubbly laboratory assistant who, when proposing a roll in the hay, means precisely that and nothing more. She played the wives of troubled men in two very different fantasies from 1977.

In Steven Spielberg’s Close Encounters of the Third Kind, she tries to keep her children chipper while their father (Richard Dreyfuss), a UFO obsessive, descends into madness. In the comedy Oh, God!, in which her husband (John Denver) is visited by the wisecracking Almighty (George Burns), she says tearfully: “I went to empty the garbage and two people blessed me. And then one of them blessed the garbage.” In both instances she invested stay-at-home sidekick roles with abundant warmth, humour and generosity.

Younger audiences came to know Garr as the mother of Phoebe Buffay (Lisa Kudrow) in the 1990s sitcom Friends, but her career high point was Tootsie (1982), starring Dustin Hoffman as a cross-dressing actor. Playing Sandy, his sometime lover waiting for her big acting break, Garr was touchingly grounded. She improvised some of her funniest moments, such as being locked in the bathroom and then resolving to use the experience in her acting work, and made comic capital out of the way in which the tiniest knock could send Sandy’s self-esteem plummeting. Most magically, she brought dignity to a part that could have come across as a doormat. Garr was Oscar-nominated but lost out to Jessica Lange for her performance in the same film.

The production was famously troubled, passing through so many writers and potential directors that there were rumours of an “I Also Wrote/ I Almost Directed Tootsie” club in Hollywood. Hoffman and the eventual director, Sydney Pollack, spent most of the protracted 100-day shoot either at loggerheads or communicating only through intermediaries.

Garr found Hoffman exhausting. “It’s not enough to give in to him,” she said. “You have to like what he wants too!” Such off-screen troubles only made the delightful end result all the more miraculous. In the escalating mania of the picture’s final stretch, Garr came into her own with her killer timing and gasping indignation.

She was born in Lakewood, Ohio, to showbiz parents: Phyllis Lind, born Emma Schmotzer, was a dancer with the Rockettes, while Eddie Garr, born Edward Gonnoud, was a vaudeville performer and actor who starred alongside a young Marilyn Monroe in Ladies of the Chorus (1948). After he died when Garr was 11, the family moved from their home in New Jersey to Hollywood, where her mother became a wardrobe mistress for film and television.

From an early age Garr harboured aspirations to be an actor and dancer. At 13 she performed with a professional ballet company in San Francisco. She was educated at Magnificat high school, Ohio, North Hollywood high school and California State University at Northridge before appearing in the West Side Story road show and Donald O’Connor’s revue at the Cocoanut Grove club.

Garr’s earliest film appearances were as a background dancer in Elvis Presley movies; she appeared in nine including Fun in Acapulco (1963), Kissin’ Cousins, Viva Las Vegas (both 1964) and Clambake (1967). She began taking acting lessons and found herself in the same class as Jack Nicholson, who was writing the deranged film Head (1968) as a vehicle for the Monkees. He doled out small parts to his classmates, providing Garr with her first speaking role as a woman who suffers a snakebite. (“Quick,” she tells Micky Dolenz, proffering an injured finger, “suck it before the venom reaches my heart.”)

She became a regular in the early and mid-70s on The Sonny & Cher Show – she based Inga’s accent in Young Frankenstein on Cher’s German wig stylist – and appeared on sitcoms such as The Bob Newhart Show and M*A*S*H.

Francis Ford Coppola gave her a small role in his surveillance thriller The Conversation (1974) and she was also part of the ensemble cast in two ramshackle US comedies by British directors: Michael Winner’s star-studded Won Ton Ton, the Dog Who Saved Hollywood (1976) and John Schlesinger’s Honky Tonk Freeway (1981).

After playing the young hero’s mother in the lyrical Coppola-produced adventure The Black Stallion (1979), Garr became part of the director’s Zoetrope Repertory Company, appearing in other films produced or directed by him.

“Instead of getting a big chunk of money for a movie, I’d take a weekly cheque or a small amount, because we were all going to share the profits later. After a while, even the small cheques stopped coming.” Zoetrope productions in which she starred included The Escape Artist and the stylised but commercially disastrous musical One from the Heart (both 1982). Of the latter, Garr said: “It was over-rehearsed. After you have done a scene 25 times, you have no energy left, you don’t care.”

She was one of the leads in The Sting II, a lacklustre sequel to the 1973 con-artist comedy film. She briefly reprised her role in The Black Stallion Returns and played the wife to a house-husband (Michael Keaton) in Mr Mom (both 1983).

A rare foray into straight drama came as a divorced woman taking up with a cad in Michael Apted’s Firstborn (1984), and she was wickedly funny in Martin Scorsese’s black comedy After Hours (1985) as a Monkees-obsessed, beehive-sporting waitress whose cupboards are stacked with cans of hairspray (a touch that Garr herself suggested).

In Miracles (1986), she and Tom Conti played a couple who reassess their relationship when they are kidnapped on the brink of divorce. Further roles included the gentle drama Full Moon in Blue Water (1988) and the crime caper Out Cold (1989), as well as supporting parts in Dumb and Dumber (1994), the Watergate comedy Dick (1999) and Terry Zwigoff’s wry comic-book adaptation Ghost World (2001).

In 2002, Garr announced that she had been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. Three years later, she published an autobiography, Speedbumps: Flooring It Through Hollywood, which she originally planned to title Does This Wheelchair Make Me Look Fat? In 2006 she suffered a brain aneurysm that inhibited her speech and movement, though she recovered both after months of rehabilitation. Her last film appearances were in two well-liked indie comedy-dramas, Expired and Kabluey (both 2007), made before the aneurysm.

When she expressed her dissatisfaction with the roles that she had been offered, it was sometimes hard to tell if she was being comically self-deprecating. “Directors would tell me, ‘We want you to play a character a little less complex than you are.’ Yeah, sure. What they mean is, ‘You’re playing a dummy.’” No part inhabited by Garr, though, was ever so easily pigeonholed. Her particular talent lay in introducing a sparkling comic complexity far beyond what existed on the page.

She is survived by her daughter, Molly, from her three-year marriage to the actor John O’Neil, which ended in divorce in 1996.

🔔 Teri Garr, actor, born 11 December 1944; died 29 October 2024

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[voxofthevoid]

Demon/Hunter Horror Wednesday #7—and showing no signs of stopping. It doesn't help that my writing pace has been relatively slow and scattered last month and this one, so I'm covering less of the narrative in a month than I used to. We'll see if November is more chill.

The fic is now 53k, and I've just started Chapter 09. The story is only approaching the halfway mark, and Gojou has yet to show up—next chapter or the one after though!

This week's entry features Tōji and Yuuji, with a little bit of sleeping!Megumi. It's my first time actually writing Tōji, and I gotta say, it's fun. Didn't mean for him to come across...like that, but well. It fits.

Enjoy?

“Fushiguro! Fushiguro, open up! Fushiguro—” Yuuji’s fists meet empty air instead of solid wood, and he pitches forward, right into a slab of rock—that yields ever so slightly, more suffocating than bruising. “Mmmph?”

“Pinkie,” drawls a distinctive voice. “You lost down there or just having fun?”

Yuuji detaches himself from Fushiguro Tōji’s overly generous chest, staring up and blinking till the world makes a little more sense. A narrow-eyed stare greets him. The scarred corner of that mouth is quirked up, but it’s not clear if it’s a smirk or a frown or some biting combination of both.

“Sorry,” Yuuji gasps, a few seconds too late to salvage his dignity. He backs up too, almost tripping down the front steps in his hurry to get away from Fushiguro’s dad’s sheer bulk. “Didn’t mean to—sorry for the ruckus, it’s just—Fushiguro?”

A dark eyebrow rises sharply. “That sure is me.”

“No, I mean—not you, Fushiguro-san, I meant—”

“I know who you want, kid,” Fushiguro’s dad says, stepping back from the door and turning away, leaving it open in what’s the closest to permission Yuuji’s ever gotten from this man. He steps inside, shutting the door behind him. “What’s the fuss anyway? You two have a little lover’s spat?”

“…We’re not dating, Fushiguro-san.”

“Fucker’s spat then.”

Yuuji breathes in and breathes out the urge to slam his head into the closest wall. “We’re not…doing that either.”

“Kids these days.” He scoffs. “Too damn slow about everything.”

Yuuji opens his mouth and closes it without saying a single word. He’s pretty sure the guy’s just fucking with him. Or fucking with Fushiguro, more like. He’s the one who always gets all red-faced and worked up when his dad starts on this. Yuuji usually finds it funny, at least after he got over the initial burst of panic-infused confusion at someone like this man thinking he was trying to woo his son, but today, he’s—

“Is Fushiguro home? I mean, Megumi—” Yuuji makes a face, the name tasting wrong on his tongue—not overly familiar, no, just not allowed.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Fushiguro’s dad tells him, with a rumble in his throat that’s a little too mean to be just amusement. “Just call me Tōji, it’s fine. Family names ain’t all that anyway. But kid, you’ll be grey in the grave before that stuffy brat gives you permission to use his pretty little name. You just gotta take what you want from the likes of him.”

“I—” He’s got no idea what to say to that. He’s not sure he wants to learn. “Is he here?”

Fushiguro’s dad—Tōji, which is weird but somehow not as weird as saying Megumi—drops heavily onto the touch, picking up the remote and gesturing upward with it. “In his room.”

“Oh. He wasn’t picking up his phone.”

“So you decided to, what, run here?” Tōji slants him a sideways glance, scanning Yuuji from head to toe, and he looks immeasurably bored with everything and anything, but Yuuji still feels skewered through, suddenly hyperaware of the clothes sticking to his skin with sweat and the hair plastered to his forehead. It’s not the running that turned him into a sweat factory, but the real reason is worse. “Needy much?”

“No, I…” There’s a wild urge to really explain—everything Yuuji saw, everything he didn’t. But he clings to what’s left of his sense and chokes it down. “I was just worried.”

Tōji looks away with a rough huff of breath, shaking his head while flipping through channels. “Sure. He’s sleeping, not rejecting you or whatever overdramatic bullshit you built up in your horny teenage head.”

“Sleeping?” Yuuji asks, looking at the dusty clock hanging on the wall even though he’s got a damn good idea what hour it is. “It’s three in the afternoon. Fushiguro hates napping.”

“Does he?” Tōji asks disinterestedly. “Go wake him up then.”

“I can do that?”

“Do whatever you want, kid. I’m not going to hold your dick for you. Just don’t get too frisky. The little shit sleeps with a knife.”

Tōji sounds such an unsettling mixture of irritated and impressed that Yuuji backs away toward the stairs in sheer self-defense, turning around halfway and speedwalking the rest of the distance, bounding up the stairs with a lot less care than he usually takes, and he’s at Fushiguro’s door in seconds, grabbing the knob and pushing it open before he can think it through—or think at all.

The door opens soundlessly, revealing the familiar confines of Fushiguro’s room.

There’s a boy-sized lump on the bed, buried under a thick duvet. The window’s open, but the curtains have been pulled shut, drenching the room in dark blue light. They billow out as if greeting Yuuji, settling slowly back down as the breeze dies out.

Fushiguro doesn’t stir.

Yuuji creeps closer, all his urgency pulling back under his skin to writhe there. No matter what Tōji said, Yuuji doesn’t really want to wake Fushiguro. He just has to see him.

He just needs to make sure he’s okay.

Yuuji stops in the middle of the room, still a few steps away from the bed. He’s close enough to see Fushiguro’s face and even the shape of his body under the covers. He looks…fine. Healthy, unharmed. He’s breathing deeply, and his face looks different than it usually does, but that’s always the case when he’s asleep, all those stubborn frowns and furrows falling away to turn its lines into something softer and sweeter.

And there’s no real expression on Fushiguro’s face right now, but it’s almost funny how this lack of expression is so different from the inhuman blankness that bore into Yuuji from those church pews. Fushiguro’s eyes are closed right now, but Yuuji knows in his bones that, if he pried those eyes open, it’d be blue-green fire that glares out at him, not that horrible darkness.

His legs almost buckle as pure relief floods him.

Yuuji backs away instead, anything but steady. He’s still careful to be quiet, even when he finds the half-open door without looking away from Fushiguro and steps back out of the room.

He can’t bring himself to close the door and deny himself the view of Fushiguro’s sleeping body.

That’s creepy, right? Not as bad as whatever Tōji thinks Yuuji plans to do to his son, but that’s a low bar. He shouldn’t be standing around staring at his sleeping friend, even from a distance.

It’s just—

Yuuji doesn’t remember.

The last time Yuuji saw Fushiguro, it was at the church, and Sukuna was holding them both—Yuuji in his arms, Fushiguro under his fucked-up spell. And that’s the last thing Yuuji remembers of the church. Standing there with Sukuna while his worldview shattered into splinters, each one drawing blood. He thinks the hands around his neck tightened, but he doesn’t remember suffocating.

Only darkness—and then light, the sun streaming in through his own bedroom windows.

He’d wanted it to be a dream so badly.

But he knew it wasn’t, even before the bruises made themselves known.

He lost hours. Nanami wasn’t in the house, but there was breakfast cold on the table. Yuuji didn’t take a single bite, but he’ll apologize for that later. At least Nanami wasn’t around to hear Yuuji curse that church and the monster there, his voice and his panic growing louder with every text and call that went unanswered, and he didn’t see Yuuji tear out of that house like the hounds of hell were at his heels.

Maybe it’s a miracle Tōji let him inside at all. Kugisaki’s grandma sure wouldn’t have.

But Fushiguro’s here. He looks like himself. He’s…not safe, probably, but he’s whole and alive. And that tight, thorny knot in the center of Yuuji’s chest won’t really fade until he talks to Fushiguro and makes sure it’s really his friend, all inside, but he doesn’t want to wake him up for that.

In case it’s vacant black eyes that flash open to greet him, in case—

No. That won’t happen. Yuuji won’t let it happen, even if he has to march back to that church and tear Fushiguro out of Sukuna’s belly himself.

He finally closes the door, staggering back to slump against the opposite wall. His heart is somewhere in his throat, not pounding away so much as clogging his airways. Every breath tastes like congealed blood.

It’s no phantom flavor.

Yuuji can feel it in his own blood—the rot, waiting.

Is that what Sukuna did to Fushiguro? Pry open his mouth, pour in the filth.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Hi! I have a request, could you write meruem x reader (female). Fluff and he being overprotective over his lover, a oneshot or ongoing fic. Perhaps pregnant reader if you are ok with it ofc.

I don't do pregnancy sorry:( how about we compromise with a forced wedding trope:))))))

oh wow, you said fluff? does-does killing loved ones and forcing the love of your life to swear their life to you count as fluff? Istg I cant read I'm so sorry

(Dark content, forced marriage, implied murder, implied stalking)

You've heard what was happening in the Kakin Empire.

Just rumors. Murmurs whispered here and there. People were disappearing in droves, but no one knew what was really happening. Some people speculated of aliens finally touching the Earth, taking humanity into the stars. Others thought it was a government failure, a leaked chemical plant that was causing people to die and the Empire was just covering it up.

It was a tragedy, but you lived two countries away from the Kakin Empire. It wasn't supposed to effect you.

This was supposed to be the happiest day of your life. You were supposed to marry the man of your dreams. Live the rest of your life in marital bliss.

Now, the man you were about to swear your life to was dead, and someone else sat at your side.

You've never seen anyone like him. He was peculiar looking. Handsome, but his skin was an inhuman green color. You've never seen someone with a tail before. He was oddly beautiful, in a tragic sort of way.

But you could barely care about appearances, not with how effortlessly he started to massacre.

He called himself the King when he entered the venue. You thought him rude, at first, when he interrupted the ritual with his sudden presence. Your fiance looked annoyed at the appearance. You could see him turn, about to curse out the stranger.

In retrospect, you should be grateful his death was quick. Painless.

You don't notice his subordinates until they demand attention as well. Three, just as peculiar as their leader. One demands that everyone bow for their so-called King. When the crowd doesn't listen, still amassed in hysteria, you have a perfect view as his men begin to pick off the crowd one by one. The only ones left are the few that were smart enough to reel in their horror, slinking down to their knees.

And then there's you.

He's slow when he makes his ascension. You wonder if he was the personification of death itself, coming to claim you for his own. You wished he would, but instead, he stops, right by your side. Instead of killing you, he starts to speak.

He has a nice voice.

He says he's been watching you for a while. He says that in order to respect your tumultuous human customs, he will finish this ceremony with you so you two can be wed. Then, he sits down right next to you, urging the shaking priest to continue.

You don't acknowledge him, not at first. You're not smiling anymore. You don't stare into the remaining crowd, too scared to see who you also lost. Instead, you look down at your hands, draped in jewelry and henna. You continue to stare, reminiscing how just ten minutes ago, you were so so happy.

You wince when a hand reaches over to roughly grab your arm. It doesn't hurt, but it easily could have.

"You don't seem happy," He hisses, "I expect you to behave gratefully. It is an honor to marry a King."

You nod because you're a coward. You value your life more than your dignity.

"Yes, your Majesty," You respond quietly.

"You must not use titles when referring to me," He declares, "From now on, you will call me by my name or husband."

"I don't know your name." You respond.

Of course, you didn't know his name. The monster of the man who entered your life so suddenly. He's silent, and you wonder if that's the last graciousness he'll give you. If he's decided to slay you here, leave you for another more obedient one.

"Meruem," He finally responds, "My name is Meruem."

He doesn't speak another word, intently focusing on the priest. You both sit in silence, hearing the priest shakily recite the mantras, hearing your remaining family quietly sob on the floor.

He acknowledges you once more when he ties the mangal sutra around your neck. It's thin, discrete, and easily hides under your gaudy dress. Still, it feels like a chain that suddenly snaps in place, bogging you down.

You don't remember much after that. It's only after Meruem pulls you up, effectively pulling you back into reality. There are still many rituals to be done. He doesn't seem to care. You don't either.

He leads you away from the altar. Your bare feet hit the smooth tile as you are dragged outside. The anklets create small jingles, bells that ring your perceived fate. The men who came in with him, silently trail behind. The doors close behind you with a sickening thud, locking you away from your dream forever.

You wouldn't be able to bury him.

Meruem suddenly stops, turning back to you. He reaches up to your face as though he is fascinated. You can feel him wipe a tear off your cheek.

You hadn't even realized you'd begun to cry.

"I can make you happy," He promises, his voice small, so much different compared to how he spoke less than ten minutes ago.

You search his face. His eyes show a glimmer of loneliness. Desperation.

It's gone within a moment. The King takes a breath, removing his hand.

"Come," He says, the usual cruelty back in his voice, "We should return to the palace. Your new home."

[ykzzr]

Deadly love (22 June 1908)

(On this day 115 years ago, Prince Nikolai Yusupov and Count Arvid Manteuffel duel took place, in which Nikolai was killed for his beloved Marina.)

In March 1908, at one of the dinners of amateur artists from high society youth, Nikolai was introduced to the young Countess Marina Haydn. Marina, as a lady-in-waiting to the Empress, was invited to take part in a charity performance.

She was 19 years old and was about to marry the captain of the Life Guards Cavalry Regiment, Count Arvid Ernstovich Manteuffel, heir to an old Baltic family.

Yusupov played the role of a man in the play, and Marina unexpectedly boldly chose the role of a nasty hunchbacked old woman, who played her role deftly and cheerfully. Nikolai Yusupov could not help but pay attention to such a charming girl.

Their meeting can be called a fatal chance. Passion broke out between them instantly, and the fact that Marina's wedding took place a month later did not stop them.

Nikolai Yusupov was going to marry Marina, but his mother, Zinaida Nikolaevna Yusupova, did not agree to this marriage.

When Marina learned of Zinaida's refusal to see her as her son's wife, she began begging her lover: "Let's run outside and get married!" They planned to escape, but Marina's mother intervened: she couldn't allow her daughter to escape so shamefully before the wedding with a man.

The girl tearfully begged her parents to cancel the wedding, but to no avail. On the eve of the wedding, the two lovers met. On April 22, 1908, Nikolai Yusupov and Marina Gaydin arranged a farewell dinner in a separate room of the restaurant, Marina and Arvid Manaville's wedding took place on April 23, 1908, as planned. There were three hundred guests at the wedding. Zinaida Nikolaevna Yusupova sighed softly: this is all resolved.

After the wedding, they went to France for their honeymoon. Left alone with her unloved husband, the beautiful, eccentric Marina realizes the horror of her situation as a recluse in a golden cage, She bombarded Nikolai Yusupov daily with passionate letters, begging him to come, and Nikolai followed marina to France

Marina asked her husband for a divorce, but was refused. Seizing the moment, she secretly met Nikolai Yusupov, who settled nearby at the Hotel Maurice in Paris.

After that, Marina and Nikolai, as if forgetting about decency, appear together in society, at fairs, at operas and restaurants. Arvid finds out quickly enough and demands an explanation from his wife, Marina in the midst of a quarrel, boldly says to her husband: "I'm leaving you. It's all over between us!" Indeed, she leaves her husband.

Inspired, Nikolai Yusupov writes a letter to his mother and again asks permission to marry Marina, who is on the verge of a divorce.

Then Count Manteuffel, in order not to become a laughing stock in society, challenges Yusupov to a duel. He is instigated by regimental comrades: "Yusupov insulted your honor and dignity! It can't be left like that. Only a duel..."

Nikolai wrote to his beloved Marina in their last letter:

“I am not afraid of death, but it’s hard for me to die away from you without seeing you one last time.

Goodbye forever, I love you."

The duel took place on June 22, 1908 in St. Petersburg, on Krestovsky Island At the predawn hour.

At 8 o'clock in the morning on June 22, 1908, Nikolai Yusupov was mortally wounded in the chest. An honest passion cost the prince his life: the cold-bloodedly offended Manteuffel shot Nikolai, who shot twice into the air, from a distance of fifteen steps.

Felix Yusupov described this tragic day as follows: “I heard tearful cries from my father's room I entered and saw him very pale in front of the stretcher on which the body of Nikolai was stretched out, my mother, kneeling before him seemed to have lost her mind. With great difficulty they separated her from her son's body and put her to bed after they had Calmed down a bit, she called me but when she saw it she thought it was her brother it was an unbearable sight then the mother fell into prostration and when she came to herself she would not let me go for a moment.

Nikolai Feliksovich Yusupov was buried in the Arkhangelsk family estate. Marina begged Nikolai's family for permission to say goodbye to her lover, but she was refused. Shaken by Yusupov's death, Marina was in a terrible state. Her family sent her to a clinic in Geneva, where she spent several months.

Marina and Arvid's life is turned upside down: they become outcasts in society. She is a shameless married woman who killed a brilliant young man, a cold-blooded killer.

They finally got divorced. Count Manteville left military service, went first to Latvia, and then to France, where he died in 1931 at the age of 52.

Marina in 1916 married Colonel Mikhail Mikhailovich Chichagov, with whom she left for Europe. They had one son, who died in infancy. Marina and Mikhail's marriage collapsed.

At the end of her life, Marina Haydn published the book "Sapphire brings misfortune", which was published in only 100 copies. Marina Alexandrovna died alone in Monte Carlo in 1974 at the age of 86. Marina Haydn kept Nikolai Yusupov's letter as a great relic.

[mk-wizard]

Top 15 Games that SHOULD get a 100% Reboot/Restart

Hi. I felt like doing something positive especially after my last post, so as a follow up, here is a list of games that I think should get the reboot treatment. And when I say reboot, I don’t just mean remake with fancier graphics and bonus features. I mean restart altogether with fresh new storylines that go their own way though in some specific cases, all they need is a new look. Note that this is my subjective opinion and nobody here has to agree with it. It’s just a fun suggestion.

1- Metal Gear - I don’t mean Metal Gear Solid, I mean Metal Gear in general. In fact, I think the “Solid” should be retconned entirely because it not only stopped being about Solid Snake who is the hero, he was done dirty with a pathetic ending and the only sequels we get now are prequels. Not to mention the constant drama and tragedy became nauseating. My advice is to restart from the beginning by rebooting the games that date back to the NES as are with better writing and then after that, only do a half-reboot of Metal Gear Solid and then go its own way while respecting Snake as a main character. Solid Snake is a staple in war themed games and set the standard of how we create them. He should REMAIN the main character and have his endings always remain open with him still standing with dignity.

2- Dino Crisis - I don’t think I need to say much here. Everyone is dying to see this game get remade and it’s not hard to see why. With the exception of the third game and the spin off, Dino Crisis 1 and 2 are amazing. They are dinosaur themed games that actually feel like survivor horror games and not like shooter games with the dinosaur gimmick. This series deserved a reboot and a third game that gives it proper closure.

3- Parasite Eve - Like Metal Gear, this series did dirty to its main character (Aya Brea) in such a way that they wrote themselves into a corner. Only the first game feels unique and special while the second and third instalments have an identity crisis, a confusing weapons and spell system, and a tank control that never belonged. Only the first game should stay as is with a simple remake and then, its sequels should actually be true sequels that keep the battle, spell and control system as are. Let’s just forget that PE2 and The Third Birthday ever happened.

4- Silent Hill - Let’s be honest. Harry Mason is the most underrated male protagonist in survivor horror because unlike all the others, he is not a man of action, not a badass and very relatable for it. He is a widower, a writer, a pacifist and one heck of a dad who literally jumped into the underworld to save his daughter. Now, while I like a lot of the sequels, this series lost its way. With the exception of Silent Hill 2, I think Harry and his daughter should have remained the main protagonists of the series. Harry is proof that real men come in all flavors and having one like him is different while still showing the best attributes of masculinity.

PS: I know Silent Hill 1 got a reboot, but it was bad. Period.

5- Turok - Before there was Dino Crisis (and I’m not discrediting it), there was Turok. The titular hero who might I also add is aboriginal which is a very underrepresented group in fiction period who literally kills dinosaurs with his bare hands. He is a badass and he while he has gotten reboots before, none of them hit the mark yet, but creators should not give up on him. He is worth the effort and if they keep trying, they will strike gold.

6- Castlevania - This series is ICONIC and nobody ever gets tired of it. It should make a comeback and it is one of the few series where being 3D would make it better. And considering that medieval settings in video games is all the rage now, it would be great to see Simon Belmont back in action. Heck, I would even be open to seeing a Belmont fighting evil in our modern times in 3D.

7- The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time - Now, I stand by that this series doesn’t need a reboot, I think this game specifically should get a remake because it is a great game that reshaped the series into how we know and love it now, but it was very buggy and the graphics were not that great even for their time. Everything else about it is great, but it does need a facelift.

8- Prototype - A forgotten gem if there ever was one. This series is unique in that it is the one game where you play as the monster who is also an anti-hero. Yet again, its series did its main character (Alex Mercer) dirty though on top of that, left too many questions unanswered. This series needs a reboot with a much better storyline. If you haven’t seen it, play the first game and you’ll see my point.

9- Tomb Raider - Now, we can all agree that this series has lost its way. While I am all for origin stories and I admit it makes sense for Lara Croft to not be hardened or toughened up from the start. Keeping her as a weak frightened girl doesn’t make her realistic nor does it make her a likeable heroine. And I am woman enough to admit that being athletic, confident, daring and badass is a part of Lara Croft’s character. I don’t want her to be realistic. I want her to be cool and fun to play. This series needs to go back to its roots when it was fun and Lara was allowed to shamelessly be herself.

10- Dead Rising - Another case of a game losing its way and its main protagonist becomes someone they’re not. The second instalment was the only game that felt true to what the series is supposed to be and even then, it felt like a spinoff not a part of the main story because Dead Rising is Frank West’s story. Another thing that also stood out about this game is that unlike most zombie themed games, the main character is not only not a fighter, he’s a total lover in all the great ways. Frank is (or rather, was) compassionate, honest and it isn’t for nothing that you only got the best ending when you would save everyone. Heck, he would save people who tried to kill him. This series should get a total reboot and a total rewrite after game 1. And can we please not give Frank a heart of stone? Him being loving is what made him great.

11- ObsCure - Another lost gem with a unique premise and group of protagonists. This game plays up our childhood fear of the dark because the monsters in this game literally are allergic to the light and the setting is in a highschool. It feels like Scream meets the Blair Witch Project making it a lot of fun, and the monsters are so delightfully creepy. Plus, the story was compelling. Sadly this series only got one sequel which was actually great, but never got that third instalment that would wrap everything up. I say we give this series a reboot, so it can finally finish what it started.

12- Resident Evil Outbreak - I know this is a spinoff series, but it’s one of the best in the series. It fills in a lot of gaps in the main storyline and any game that allows you to have your own tyrant fighting alongside you is awesome. It also has a multiple ending system which was well done and very rewarding when you get the best ending. I think this should get the reboot treatment and even have a third game that expands the aftermath further.

13- Resident Evil Dead Aim - Another one of the best spinoffs in the RE series because it expands the story specifically in how tyrants are made and how the variants work. And to be honest, I even liked the characters. I would love see new life breathed into this compelling game even if it just remains the only one of its kind.

14- Days Gone - I don’t care what anyone says. Any game that allows to play a biker with the spirit of an honourable warrior is badass. Also, can we talk about how this is one of the few games where the main protagonist is married and remains loyal to his wife even long after?! He may be white, male, straight and Christian, but he is still pretty progressive and embodies the BEST part of masculinity. The parts that drive a man to be romantic, noble and heroic. This game with extremely misjudged to the point of bigotry and it deserves a proper reintroduction because it was going places.

15- Half-Life - This series helped Valve get its jump start and it had the most unique and most iffy type of protagonist in an action/sci-fi game possible yet worked: a scientist. After all, who expect the skinny nerd with the big thick glasses to save the day? Yet, it worked and this game has tons of monsters that became iconic in video game lore. What’s really sad is that a third game was in works, but never saw the light of day. I say we reboot this series and give it the chance to honour its promise to give that third game at long last.

Bonus - Other honourable mentions here are Left 4 Dead because Back 4 Blood stinks, Alone in the Dark though I hear a reboot is in the works, Doom, Devil May Cry and the right way please, Bloody Roar, The Suffering, Fatal Frame, The Evil Within and any other fantastic game series that either went bad due to bad sequels or never got the chance to keep going.

[nerdieforpedro]

Wyrms and Soggy Milk

Chapter Three of Fire and Fury

Pero Tovar x Calista (fat/plus size OFC)

My entire masterlist and blog are for readers 18+ MDNI. I do not consent to my work being used in AI, recommended on TikTok, borrowed or plagiarized.

Summary: Arriving at the church was supposed to be a reprieve, it proves to be anything but. By the end of their continued troubles , Pero ends up confused and in a tub. Calista may have the advantage.

Warnings: (Dark Fic/DDDNE - violence and threats of SA) time-period misogyny, blood, mentions of some gore, insults, mention of sex work, way too much milk talk, unlawful use of scales (unsure if there's a lawful use?), Pero in a tub

Word Count: about 5.2k

Notes: I tried my best with writing fight scenes, I think the chapter ended up long because of it but they should make sense. It’s my second or third time writing one so I’m hopeful? 🤔 Let me know how it reads.

Main Masterlist/ Pero Tovar Masterlist/ AO3 Link

Meeting the Father

The sun hung low in the sky by the time they reached the church Pero and William had stopped by before heading into the forest yesterday. The trio had settled from their bickering as fatigue and hunger quieted them. Father Ignacio spotted them in the distance. He recognized the two men, but had never seen the woman before, she didn’t look like anyone from his flock from the nearby village.

As the small group comes closer, the priest is able to make out more details about the woman with the two mercenaries: this does not bode well for him. He was hopeful maybe she was older, but she appears young, full-bodied with a silver and light green dress stained with blood. Her hair is an unusual mix of the same mint green and black. What draws Father Ignacio is her lips, a vibrant bold pink. Such a color on a woman and given her clothing, he assumes that the two men have found a woman of the night to share for the night possibly, though there is something about her that doesn’t quite fit with the usual defeated look of those women. For one to enter the church, he must make it clear to Pero and William that no matter what they may have paid for, no such activity can take place under God’s house.

“Hey Father! I found him! I found Pero! You were wrong, though I’m not quite sure what happened after but we’re all okay I think.” William bounced up to the older gentleman and hugged him. Pero scoffed and Calista stood behind the Spaniard. She’s weary of men in robes, they tend to call her kind the embodiment of evil and try to hunt them. Not that any of their so-called holy relics to any more than make dragons itch. She feels vulnerable since she knows she’s weaker than normal. 

“I see that Will. Who is your lady companion? I don’t remember either of you mentioning a third person.” Father Ignacio’s eyes are fixed on Calista, those sinful lips, bright honey eyes that have what looks to be paint on her eyelids. Some of the noblewomen wore adornments like that on their faces. Draws men into temptation, makes them commit acts they wouldn’t normally. But she cannot be turned away, the sun is nearly gone from the sky now and darkness is taking hold of the heavens. Such horror would befall a woman like her if left alone. “What is your name my girl?” The priest didn’t mean for it to sound vulgar, but she brings it out of him. He’ll need to be far away from her but this woman proves captivating. The Father would rather not put too much distance between them. A healthy about, room enough for The Lord if you will.

“This is Calista. We rescued her from some wolves in the forest. She’s staying with us so we can see her into town. She got lost while traveling.” William explained and Pero nodded. Ignacio assumed that what the pale one said was indeed a lie, but one to likely preserve her dignity given who the priest believes she really is. 

“That will not be acceptable William. She’ll need her own room. This is the house of the Lord after all. Come. Let’s get the three of you cleaned and fed.” He smiles and William returns it, Pero does briefly and Calista doesn’t smile at all. They follow the older man into the inner part of the church past the congregation hall. He stops and points that William and Pero will share a room at the end of the long hallway they have turned down. Calista’s room would be in the middle of the hallway since normally there are men studying to be priests there but given the notoriety or the forest, few come to accept the call. 

“I would prefer to stay with my protectors, good sir.” Calista informed the priest, feeling the words were foreign on her tongue. He’s been watching her this entire time. She may be a young dragon and had limited experience in the human world but she knows how many men view women, especially men whose eyes follow her with such clear intentions. Instinctively, she crosses her arms to cover her chest, much of which is exposed from the low cut of her dress. Now he wishes to separate her from the group, such a basic tactic.

“I agree with the lady Father. She is our responsibility and should remain with us.” Pero steps between her and the Father. He knows men like this priest, who act holier than most but if given the funds, access and anonymity, they would live in a brothel. Father Ignacio takes a step back, the Spaniard is intimidating to say the least and the priest is sure that he has no qualms about spilling blood in a house of God. William is watching the exchange between the three and is trying to think of a compromise, it’s a bad one, but it’s better than being run out of the village for killing this man.

“Father. Pero. Let’s just sort this out.” His hands are raised as the pale warrior speaks. “Now, Father,” William turns to face Ignacio, “Miss Calista is under our protection. We can’t very well leave her unattended and unguarded, that would go against the agreement we’ve made to see her safely home.” He slaps his palms on the Father’s shoulders and smiles. “Now I believe, there should be two sleeping quarters next to each other because I know that’s what your true issue lies despite it not being a true concern at all.” The priest begrudging looks at Calista, then Pero, and back to Calista. He is not convinced that there will not be some sort of illicit activity happening, but it is also a fair alternative. He has lost this round, but the battle is not over yet.

“Fine young William. I shall show you all two rooms that should work and are side by side.” The older man huffs and walks down the long hallway and turns the corner. Neither William nor Pero realized the church was quite this large when they first came here though they’d only been in the vestibule and chapel, never any further. Calista’s head is swiveling side to side observing the tapestries hanging on the wall, gold and silver adorning the walls and various prayers etched in Latin. That part seemed strange, usually words aren't etched into the walls of churches. There's too many questions raised about these priests here to Calista, but she remains silent for now. She needs to keep playing the part of the helpless woman. She hated the role and that it was closer to the truth than she would ever admit. The four finally reached the two rooms that Ignacio had to offer. Each room had two twin beds, were clean, had a nightstand and two candles each that could be lit for light. There was a door in the middle connecting the two rooms, the priest said that he would be right back with a change of clothes for each of them. The three inspected the rooms and were satisfied by the accommodations. 

“I'm looking forward to sleeping somewhere soft.” Calista plopped down on one of the twin beds in the first room, Pero was finishing up a walk through of the second room, it was quick as both rooms were equally small. William nodded, sitting across from the young dragon on the opposite bed. He sighed and was trying to figure out better sleeping arrangements, this wasn't what he expected from a man of the cloth. He looked for the good in people which wasn't always there, no matter what their station or profession. Pero stood with arms crossed, scowl on his face per usual, except this time he was squinting his eyes at William.

“William, we can't stay here. I don't care what you told that priest. I know you're still recovering from what that gray dragon did but you saw how that bastard-” He raises his hand and Pero huffs. 

“Look, I know Pero. How was I supposed to know he was like this? He's a priest!” William laments, rubbing his temples. Normally, the church takes any and everyone who walks through their doors. Apparently, the two mercenaries have the unfortunate luck of finding one of the corrupt ones. Always their lot. One break, could they just get one break?!

“You can't trust any of them. They're all assholes. How are we getting out of here?” The Spaniard is set on leaving. Calista rolls her eyes and stands to pinch Pero's nose. “Mierda (shit)! What was that for?!” He quickly grabs his nose as she takes a step back, clicking her tonuge. 

“You two are ridiculous. Yes, he is disgusting, but there are warm beds and you're forgetting that I am a dragon - human form yes, but a dragon. It will be in that priest's best interest to leave me be. If he does not, he'll go meet the god he speaks of.” Her eyes flash jade to match the wicked smile that graces her face. Pero throws his hands up and sits on the bed opposite William where Calista once sat. 

“Do what you want, dragón pequeño (little dragon). You're clearly going to.” Pero still hates this entire idea. He'd sleep outside at this rate, and he always prefers a bed over the ground any day. Calista was about to make another remark, but there's a knock at the door. Father Ignacio is back.

William is the one who answers the door, he knows if Pero answers it, he might punch the father in the face to start. A forced smile is on his face as he greets the portly priest, hopefully for the last time tonight. “I brought changes of clothes for all three of you. You can wash up before eating.” Is what the older man leads with. Gods, he won't quit will he?

“Thank you Father. We're tired so we're just going to wash our hands, eat, sleep, then be up early in the morning. Want to get Calista safely to the village. Need an early start for that.” At this point, just having food and uninterrupted sleep are luxuries. Frowning, Ignacio nods and carries the clothes as he walks the trio to a small wash area where two seminarians are finishing up cleaning their hands before quickly leaving upon seeing the two mercenaries. Their eyes linger on Calista as it's rare for women to be in this part of the church outside of the nuns who visit on occasion and especially during the night. After washing their hands, sitting down to eat a meal was not the worst. Their bellies were full for the time being and the stew had a passible taste. The walk back to their rooms was unaccompanied by the good father. Pero insisted that Calista sleep in one of the twin beds and William sleep on the floor. He could use one of the mattresses. When asked why he would be the one to sleep on the floor, Pero snickered.

“You made a fuss about stopping in at the local church. Even though I told you we would have been better off to skip it. That's your bed.” At this, William sucked his teeth. Yeah he had told Pero that, but in all the other churches they've visited in their travels, only one other priest was filled with something other than the holy spirit.

“Fine. I'll just be happy to be on something other than the ground, though it won't be much better. As long as I can finally get some sleep.” Pero and William dragged a mattress off one of the beds in the other room and placed it on the floor. Calista gave William her blanket stating that she was still warm from the stew. 

“Don't complain you're cold later.” Is all Pero said before pulling his blanket over himself and rolling over to face the wall. William and Calista looked at each other and sighed, they exchanged goodnights, “Be quiet. I thought we were all supposed to be sleeping.” The three drifted off to sleep for a few hours. But one of them woke up. 

Getting out of bed, Calista thankfully retained her enhanced vision, able to see Pero and especially William so she wouldn't step on him. She exited the room and stood in the hallway. It was slightly cooler, but her body still felt so warm, from the inside out. She ate the same soup as the two men and neither one of them was awake. Was it because she's a dragon and not used to human food? She recalled where the mess hall was and assumed there should be a kitchen not too far from there, somewhere she could get something to drink, preferably water. She passed by one of the seminarians who directed her to the kitchen and walked with Calista, even pouring some water for her. He asked if she wanted to be escorted back and she declined stating that she won't be long, she misses her warm bed already. He gives her a slight bow and leaves which gives her pause, why would he bow? She leans against one of the counters, sipping the water slowly, she's hoping that will make the cool feeling last a bit longer.

“Your senses have become quite dull Calista. You have fallen quite far, you might be in what the humans refer to as hell right now. Quite ironic given where we are.”

Calista’s back straightens and she gags on her water, coughing as she spins to turn in the direction of the voice. It's a man who's a full head taller than her, but still shorter than Pero. His build is slender, but muscular. His voice is high pitched with every word wounding like a sneer. She knows it all too well, but what would he be doing here? It's much too soon, neither her nor Pero are ready to encounter him here. They're both still adjusting to their new forms. 

“Nothing to say to me sweet Calista? Where is that fiery spark that cut me before?” Setting the glass down, the young dragon slowly backs up, keeping her eyes focused on her would-be attacker. She knows he will, just a matter of when, she's still burning up, even after finishing the water. “Trying to leave me so soon. You want to run back to your new human toy? I wasn't aware that was your type. I could see how I would not be a match for you. That matters little, it only means I'll have to work that much harder to breed you.”

“To hell with you Acanthus! I will never allow you to.” Her eyes flash jade once more and she lengthens her nails into crimson claws. She'll need to fight to have a sliver of a chance to make it out. Focusing is so difficult. He closes the distance as she jumps back, only to be caught by Father Ignacio, he was not only a filthy minded priest, but a wyrm. A lesser dragon that can be under the command of a young, great or elder dragon. His facial features have contorted into a longer, more reptilian face with a long tongue that slides across Calista's cheek while his black claws dig into the flesh of her shoulders. She shakes side to side to try and free herself, but she's too weak to even escape his grasp. “Dammit! Dammit!” Calista tries to call for Pero, summoning him using the same mental command she used when he fought her mother, but she can't seem to connect with him. 

“Her skin even tastes sweet, Master. May I have a taste? While she is in this form? She is of little use to you in this form, yes?” Ignacio's speech has become subservient and simple. How did she miss it? What else has she not picked up on? Her senses are truly this poor? Did she miscalculate how much of herself she transferred to Pero? Acanthus smiles, his skin has a gray pallor to it, even in his human form that makes him look like a ghoul, matched with his yellow eyes and red lines on his neck, it isn't that far off from his dragon form. 

“I may allow you to do so my minion while I watch. She'll be begging for me afterward. This one is quite depraved and that's coming from me as you well know Calista.” Her eyes widen at the implication, she spits on Acanthus’ white and silver robes. “What makes this better is that you don't even know why you can't call your toy? Did you not notice the change in your body? I had the good father behind you add something special to your bowl of soup. A few of my scales for seasoning. You didn't forget what that does right?” His thin fingers cup her chin as she stares at him, realizing the gravity of the situation. Consuming his scales means that she's connected to him. Even for the week that he held her captive, she managed to avoid eating them, no matter how hard he tried. It was why she was so hungry, eating anything in his lair could have meant a loss of control. Maybe due to her essence bond with Pero, that's why she wasn't under his command, but it also meant that she couldn't reach him either.

Dreams into Reality

Tovar doesn't often remember his dreams. There's darkness and then he awakes, lives, sleeps and repeats. Tonight is the first time in a long time that he dreams. That damn dragon is in his dream, holding his head on her lap. Stroking his hair, never would she do something so tender. She hates him and he hates her too. He is aware that he needs her to stay alive, that much is certain. That disgusting priest pops up, leering at Calista, but Pero doesn't move, head still in her lap and neither does she. Fire begins to burn around them and they disappear, the next thing he knows is that he is standing. Calista is in front of him, but that dirty old man is holding her arms behind her. Why won't she break free? Pero knows she's strong enough, but she's crying. He hears a man's shrill laughter and Calista screaming.

Pero awakens with his head pounding, he notices a faint green glow in the room, it seems to be coming from his head, the left side where his scar is. “What the hell is this? Is this what happened before? Wait…” Pero looks over at Calista's side of the room and sees her bed empty. “Godammit this fucking woman! Get up William! She's gone and likely in danger!” Rising out of bed, Pero kicks Will's side and grabs his broadsword and small swords, arming himself before leaving the room. Will is soon right behind him still groggy. Tovar finds that he can't pinpoint where she is, just a general direction. “This way!” He starts off down the corridor but is met by two of the seminarians. “Choir boys out of the way lest I cut you both down!” Will draws his sword as he and Pero watch them change into large snakes.

“If I ever mention, setting foot in a damn church again. Punch me hard Pero and remind me of this moment.” Will lunges toward the first snake cutting its head off with ease, the purple blood that splatters on the wall eats away at the tapestry and stone. “Be careful! Looks like the blood is high acidic!” Pero makes short work of the other snake, lobbing its head off and having some of the blood splash on his cuirass, it eats through part of it, exposing the leather under the iron. The two men race toward the mess hall where they hear a scream and a crash.

The white dragon is laughing as he sees Ignaco bleeding from a severed arm. “Master, why will you not help me?!” He whines, Acanthus sits on the counter shaking his head. His master had promised him a taste of this dragon turned human, to play with her before he took her back to his lair. Ignacio almost had her. Calista had been pinned to the ground, but she was able to get in a fire breath directly in his face. It didn't hurt him much, but with her claws she was able to take an arm and use it to get a few hits to the wyrm’s head before it broke in half. The entire ordeal was entertaining to the white dragon. Watching his future broodmare fight filled him with an unwarranted pride, the mother of his hatchlings needed to be strong after all. 

Battered and bloodied, Calista didn't see a way out alive. Her best bet would be to end her life while killing this wyrm. If she tried earlier, Acanthus would step in and let the wyrm have her arm or no arm. If she did so after, she would risk trying to overpower the white dragon which she knew was impossible in her current state. it had been difficult enough in her full dragon form. There were no good options, but at least Pero might be none the wiser and would go peacefully in his sleep, maybe. He may have been a rude bastard, but he did try and help her for the little time she knew him. She could have been nicer, but it was too late to dwell on that now. “Maybe he wasn't so bad. Not a complete reprobate.”

“That right arpia pequeña (little dragon)? Only upon threat of death do you say something nice about me? Dragons have the same manners as humans then.” A silver blade met Calista a few inches away from her face, leaving her covered with purple blood. It didn't burn her nor her dress as both were naturally resistant. The wyrm fell to the floor convulsing in pain from the hole in its chest.

“Master…help me. I…my promise…” Its eyes alternated between Calista and Acanthus, ending on its Master as the light faded from them. Pero and William leaped to stand in front of Calista as she smiled, a genuine one at the both. Her focus quickly turned to Acanthus who wore a similar scowl to Pero's now.

“The two rats have come to play have they? No matter. I'll kill the pale one and separate your limbs from your body so you cannot pursue us mercenary.” Red and white flames gathered in his hands as he got off the counter.

“Why the hell are you calling me pale? You’re the one who looks like spoiled milk!” William shouts and Pero snorts. The white dragon answers with a fireball in William's direction, he rolls out of the way, but now the wooden counter is on fire. Pero uses the opportunity to try and slice Acanthus’ head off, but the dragon catches his blade with his hands, his surprise is that his hands are bleeding.

“It seems the bond you have with her is stronger than I thought. No matter. I'll still kill you.” He pulls Pero's broadsword down and breathes white flames in the mercenary's face. Calista threw up a jade barrier to protect him, it did but unfortunately it broke. William took the opportunity to sink his sword into Acanthus’ side. The white dragon growled and threw the pale mercenary off, his sword still stuck in his abdomen. “Filthy human scum!!” The villain's eyes turn white and flames simmer from his body. Calista recognizes the pattern on the flames, Acanthus is preparing for a large-scale attack. The young dragon pulls Pero by his chainmail and dives near William to huddle the three of them together and forms another barrier.

“Brace yourselves! I don't know if I can completely block it!” Calista raises the jade again. She's forgone her crimson claws and is focusing all her energy into the barrier. Pero places a hand on her shoulder and feels some of his energy fading, he leans his forehead on the back of her shoulder. Will huddles close to the both of them as the heat in the room intensifies and the flames off of Acanthus’ body are becoming brighter. All three of them close their eyes to prevent being blinded and there's a loud boom coupled with an explosion. 

They thought they would be knocked against the walls of the church, but there were none anymore. William was the furthest back so he ended up hitting some rubble on the side of the church. Only one wall far opposite of the kitchen was left standing, the rest had either been completely obliterated or were dotted pieces of smoldering stone embedded into the ground. William’s sword that had been stuck in Acanthus’ side was sticking out of one of the nearby stones, flung from his body. The sun was rising and Pero was face down in the dirt once more. Twice in two days. “Fuck…” His entire body ached but it at least felt like he had all of his limbs. His head is ringing and he can at least make out shapes though given how much rubble is everywhere it doesn't help much. There's some movement that he can make out followed by a deep growl. Pero assumes that's the damn white dragon but that when his sight finally clears upon hearing the word ‘bastard’ screamed with a wet gurgle. Acanthus has his hand on Calista's throat, her claws are much shorter but she's making cuts in his forearm, he's lifted her up off the ground. 

“Did you enjoy your last little bit of freedom? I think I will kill them both. I’ll figure out a way to end the one with the scar. That bastard burned my hands? How much of yourself did you give to him?” Acanthus bends his arm to close the distance between them. He sees the fear in her eyes buried underneath the hatred. “You care about one of their ilk? They vilify us despite us only bothering them if they trespass on our lands. Such a horrid fortune I have that you are the only viable female our clan has to offer.”

“Then go find another one asshole.” Calista continues to struggle, she won’t go with him willingly and not without a fight. “And yes I prefer Pero to you.” She laughs and spits blood in the white dragon’s face. “Will’s right, you do look like spoiled milk. A dingy shade of white.” He spins her around and throws her against one of the larger pieces of remaining stone. The young dragon gasps, coughing up blood as she attempts to move but cannot. Her body isn't allowing it. Pero is able to stand to his feet as his left eye glows a bright jade again, only this time, green flames have gathered in his right hand.

“Stay the hell away from her you soggy fucker!” Acanthus expects to be able to stop Pero, maybe even a burn this time as well. He did not anticipate being pushed back and needing to dig his heels into the ground. Their fingers were interlocked and their flames burning in nearly equal amounts. It was the first time Acanthus had appeared surprised during this entire ordeal. Neither of them were giving a quarter as the ground began to sizzle. “What's wrong? Is one of the filthy humans holding you hostage?” Pero taunts and hears the white dragon growl. 

Calista is finally on her feet watching the two men be evenly matched. It occurs to her that they might be able to kill him here. She focuses and circles behind the soggy dragon, putting all the energy she was left into her right hand, sharpening her scarlet claws. She starts running, building momentum to strike him from behind and hit him square in the chest for a final blow. In strengthening herself, Pero weakened slightly, enough for Acanthus to push the mercenary back and change the angle at which her attack was going to hit. She was going too fast and couldn't change her direction. Her claws went through Acanthus, but missed his core. Thankfully, it was a strong enough hit to have him cry out in pain. Tovar attempted to bash his face in, but a white barrier repelled them as the grand dragon held his hand over the hole in his chest.

“You bitch…the audacity to harm me?! Next time I will end you, all of you! To hell with breeding you, you'll suffer a slow death Calista.” Acanthus attempted to transform into his dragon form but found that he could not. “The hell have you done to me?!” 

Calista pointed to the back of her hand that was covered in his blue blood. Half of one of her magenta scales was missing. It glimmered within the hole in his chest, the scale itself was seeping into the surrounding tissue, weakening him. “Looks like you're on our level now, spoiled milk.” He screamed a string of curses while extending white wings from his back and taking off. Pero stood up and helped the young dragon to her feet. “Ran like a soggy bitch.” The Spaniard laughed at the woman's foul mouth.

“We survived. How did you know that would work?” He was curious if she'd planned that far ahead. Pero retrieved his sword and Will's then scanned the area for him.

“I figured if he could poison me with his scales, I could do the same. I didn't know if it would work or not. That was some favor with whatever gods there are.” Placing her hands on her lower back, she stretches and points to a large piece of stone where Will is slumped over. Tovar and Calista make their way over and are relieved to find William breathing. 

“Figured you'd half ass something again. Do you ever plan anything woman? You're the fucking dragon.” Pero scoffs and puts one arm of William’s over his shoulder as Calista does the same. 

“Oh? When's the last time you fought a grand dragon Pero? Or bonded someone's soul to yours? I'm new to all of this too. Stop your complaining and show me the way to the village. Maybe this time we can actually sleep in a bed for more than a few hours.” Calista rolls her eyes and walks side by side with Tovar to balance Will between them. They mainly bicker most of the way.

Once finally at the village, they decide the best course of action is to leave Will with a woman who he saved on one of their last jobs here. Her husband may have suspiciously died during said job, but unexpected things happen as a mercenary. Pero did offer her two gold coins to care for him, but she offered to do it for free. Instead, the money was used for a room at the inn. Tovar was surprised that Calista did not argue for a seperate room. 

“There's a lot we'll need to discuss and take care of Pero. No need to waste money.” Is what she told him which he was fine with. They have needed to talk about what changes both their bodies have been through since this entire ‘bonding’ process has taken place. 

What Tovar is confused about is why Calista is standing before him while he's soaking in his large bathtub on the floor. Naked.

Chapter Two. Chapter Four

[blackjackkent]

Poking at Jaheira and Rasaad dialogue from Baldur's Gate 2 to get their voices more in my head for fic writing... some of my favorite bits from the wiki that I didn't get in Caden's playthrough:

Jaheira: You musn't let yourself get so wounded, Aerie. I won't always be around to bandage you, you know. Aerie: I'm a healer too, Jaheira. Jaheira: And what good are your spells now? You should be more frugal and not cast them all at once. Aerie: Y-yes, ma'am. Jaheira: And don't stutter; it doesn't become you.

Jaheira: I see you are hurt, child. I will carry what extra I can if it will lighten your load. Aerie: I am not weak, Jaheira, and you were as likely to be hurt as I! Jaheira: I have more experience in battle, Aerie. Any wound I received might have killed you comparatively. Aerie: So you say, but I shall not learn avoidance of such by cowering behind you.

Dorn: You have fire. I respect that. But I warn you, druid: Attempt to poison me again and you will not see the next sunrise. Jaheira: What nonsense are you babbling? Dorn: This concoction. You neglected to account for my orc blood. Next time, try something more potent. Jaheira: Do not be ridiculous. I am a druid, not an assassin. Dorn: Then how do you explain this vile brew? Jaheira: It is a mixture of myrtle and willow— Dorn: IT IS POISON. Jaheira: Drink it, Il-Khan. Or next time I will leave your wounds untended.

Jan: You know, Jaheira, in all our travels, your smile has eluded me. Jaheira: Oh, come now. Certainly I reserve my emotions for matters of great import, but... Jan: That is the thing. Perhaps I have moved you on occasion, but any fleeting glimmer of a smile is gone before it properly lights the room. Jaheira: Well, have you a relative that might remedy the situation Jan: Eh, perhaps illustrating the horror of unappreciated storytelling? Well... I had an Uncle Richard that tried to bring nude theater to a festival in Waterdeep...Exposure is usually good for an actor's career, but even so, a cold reception for the play caused the cast to shrink steadily. Blackballed, my uncle tried to recruit from the thieves' guild, but they wouldn't let their nick-ers go."Just bare with me," he would say, but they were afraid of being stripped of their dignity. He gave up the lead to attract new members, and eventually the production's genius was uncovered, even with his part left out. Jaheira: Ah... Jan: Verdict? Jaheira: Not... one of your best. *snicker* Jan: They can't all take the brass ring. Jaheira: Keep trying? Jan: I will if you will, my dear.

Keldorn: So this is home to your mysterious Harpers, is it Jaheira: Less and less mysterious with every day of your scrutiny, Lord Keldorn. Had I my choice, I would rather none but me were here at all. Keldorn: Then I thank the gods you do not have your choice more often. Your opinions run often towards the brash, my dear. Jaheira: I am Harper, Keldorn, I am discreet when I wish. I just find other methods to be... more effective. Now, may I suggest you keep your next thoughts to yourself? Keldorn: Ah... yes... aye, m'lady.

Korgan: That's a fine wooden staff you've there, woman. Tell me, ye crack acorns with it? Or call some rarebit friends to frolic with ye? Jaheira: Nature's servant makes no judgment on the woodlands. Your tone betrays you, Korgan. Korgan: Perhaps ye could summon a horde of squirrels to take the day, or make a lovely leaf stew? Make sure ye and yer twig be of some use, though that use be lost on me. Jaheira: A great many things are lost to you, I would think.

Jaheira: My injuries sting, but I think it is mostly my pride that hurts. But we did well enough in our last battle, did we not? I'll wager we may outlive the season if we are careful. Mazzy: That we might, though this was surely but a small scuffle. Our battles will loom larger as we garner more enemies. Jaheira: You do not seem worried at this prospect. Mazzy: Our virtue will guide the way. We shall not falter.

Minsc: Oh! Squirrels, Boo! I know I saw them! Quick, throw nuts! Jaheira: Minsc, could you please maintain a little grace while in nature's presence? Sometimes I simply do not know how you came by your title of ranger. Minsc: Do you wish me dour and sour like most others? No, I say not. The animals run and play without care, and I would too... if such a thing would not squish Boo flat. Jaheira: But your duties are serious things, Minsc. Do you realize that? Minsc: I am very serious! Boo would not let me shirk my duties! I would not want to shirk anything! No, ma'am, no shirking! Jaheira: Admirable, Minsc, but you use that word like you don't know what it means. Minsc: Eh, well... no... but it sounds sharp and painful, and I always reserve such things for freaks that might steal those squirrels' nuts! Jaheira: Good job, Minsc. You keep it up.

Jaheira: Well, little Nalia, it would seem you have grown quite accustomed to the power you now wield. Nalia: Why do you bring this up now, Jaheira? You have that tone in your voice again. Jaheira: "That" tone? I do not understand what you mean. Nalia: Yes, you do. It's that "time for an unnecessary lecture" tone that means you are about to caution me on the use of the power I have earned. Jaheira: I see. And what do you think the outcome of such a conversation would be? Nalia: Well, I believe that I would tell you I have found my true calling, that you should probably butt out, and that I would really prefer you to refrain from calling me "little Nalia." Jaheira: Determined to do good works no matter what the world thinks, is that the gist of it? Nalia: Yes, that would be the gist of it. Jaheira: Then I agree that the lecture would be unnecessary. I need say nothing. Nalia: You... what? Thank you, Jaheira.

Jaheira: I am curious, Neera. What does a wild surge feel like? Neera: It depends. I never know what to expect. The surges are all different from each other. How does it feel when you cast spells? Jaheira: Not the same, I am sure. I may feel wrath if the nature of my spell is violent, or calm if it is for healing. Beneath it all, I feel a oneness with nature that never changes. Neera: Maybe it's not so different after all. Jaheira: Why? You have this sense of oneness when you use magic? Neera: Sort of. My mind becomes part of... something. What, I don't know—I don't think it's nature. The Weave, I guess? Or maybe chaos? But yeah, it's kind of like "oneness," except it seems more like I'm looking at it through a window. When my magic is working properly, anyway. Jaheira: And when it's not? Neera: A wild surge is like that window shattering into a million pieces of glass. Jaheira: That sounds... unsafe. Neera: I don't mind. If you've been indoors a long time, sometimes you like the feel of a cold gust of wind. Jaheira: We are not talking about wind and windows. We are talking about power and your mind. Be careful of that glass.

Neera: Ohmigosh. Oh, Jaheira, I am so, so sorry! Jaheira: What have you to apologize for? Neera: A lot of things, actually, like the time I lit your hair on fire or the time I elbowed you in the stomach trying to get out of your way or— Jaheira: What have you to apologize for NOW? Neera: I just realized—I never said I was sorry about Khalid. Jaheira: Thank you, Neera. I appreciate that. Neera: I liked Khalid; he was nice. He made me soup once, when we were in Bridgefort.Come to think of it, it was REALLY GOOD soup. You wouldn't happen to know the recipe, would you?Er. Never mind. Not the time.

Viconia: Tell me, Harper, who was who with your parentage? Father the darthiir, mother the rivvil? Or father human, mother elven? It's always confusing with crossbred mongrels. Jaheira: Two people in love, swine. A rain not likely to soak your parade of scabbed obscenity anytime soon.

Voghiln: Come on. Just a little peck on the cheek. What's the harm in that? Jaheira: It'll be in my husband's fists if he finds out about it. Voghiln: Vot? Your husband raises his hand to you? This is not acceptable. Jaheira: No, you idiot. He'll raise his hand to you. And then bring it down on you, over and over again, like a hammer from the heavens. Voghiln: Oh, he'd hit ME? Ja, this makes more sense.

Rasaad: Forgive me, Jaheira, but I do not understand. I thought you a champion of goodness. You say you are not? Jaheira: There is no good in nature, nor evil, either. The wolf devours the rabbit. Is this good or evil, do you think? Rasaad: Well... neither, I suppose. Jaheira: You monks sit in libraries, perusing musty tomes about good and evil. I do not make such distinctions. My world - the natural world - simply is. Rasaad: An... interesting perspective. I shall have to think upon it. Jaheira: Perhaps you could find a book to help clear the matter up. Rasaad: An excellent idea. Have you any suggest... oh. You are teasing me now, yes? Jaheira: There may be hope for you yet, Rasaad.

Aerie: The weather is turning. Rasaad: It is a little chilly. Aerie: If we didn't have bad weather, we'd never appreciate it when it was good. You taught me that. Rasaad: I did? Aerie: Without the dark, how does one recognize the light?

Rasaad: I admire your devotion, Cernd. Cernd: My devotion? Rasaad: To nature. Has your faith in the Mother ever been tested? Cernd: Winds may sway the trunk, but this oak's roots are buried deep. Rasaad: What happens when the storm tears the tree from its holdings? What then? Cernd: When it happens—if it happens—another tree will take its place. Life goes on, Rasaad. Forever and always.

Edwin: Your head is very smooth, monk. Tell me, are you naturally bald? Rasaad: No. I shave it each day. Edwin: You shave it yourself, do you? Tell me, how do you do that? Rasaad: Surely you know how to shave. Edwin: Of course I know how to shave my own head, you impudent baboon!Uh, I merely seek to add to my considerable knowledge on the subject. So tell me—how do you shave your head? Rasaad: Having the correct tools helps. Come, I'll show you what I use.

Haer'Dalis: Yours is a story as old as time, but still as enthralling as the first time it was told. Rasaad: I am fairly sure my story is mine and mine alone. How could you have heard of it before? Haer'Dalis: The narrative shares many similarities with great plays and poems from times past. A stalwart soldier of light, his beliefs thrown into question by forces beyond his control, seeking revenge against those forces in an attempt to right that which was wronged. Classic. Rasaad: I see. And how do these other stories end? Haer'Dalis: The endings are many and varied, Rasaad, but all share one element. Rasaad: Which is? Haer'Dalis: Tragedy.

Hexxat: Still suspicious, Rasaad? Don't you think if I wanted your blood, I'd have taken it by now? Rasaad: Perhaps you are just biding your time, waiting for the right moment to strike. Hexxat: Rest easy. I would never partake of a friend of <CHARNAME>—at least, not uninvited. It would be... discourteous. Rasaad: Courtesy is not something I'd expect from a vampire. Hexxat: It is, however, something I'd expect from a Selûnite monk. Expectations are such slippery things, aren't they?

Imoen: What do you think? Rasaad: About what, Imoen? Imoen: My hair, dummy. What do you think? Rasaad: Has it changed? Imoen: YES! Look at it. Does it LOOK the same? Rasaad: I... yes? Imoen: You could at least TRY lying convincingly. Rasaad: You would have me lie to you? Imoen: Forget it. Don't worry about it. Rasaad: Have I done something wrong? Imoen: If you have to ask, then yeah, you probably have.

Mazzy: Take heart, Rasaad! The day is fine and our victories plentiful. Melancholy ill suits you. Rasaad: You mistake contemplation for melancholy. Do not be deceived. I am glad of our success. Mazzy: Your eyes tell a different story. Whatever demons you wrestle with, my friend, know that we stand steadfast behind you. Rasaad: I appreciate that, Mazzy, truly. But there is nothing to worry about.

Rasaad: You are always impeccably dressed, Nalia, yet I rarely see you shop for clothes. Nalia: I've always been good with a needle—one of the few skills Aunt Delcia managed to successfully impart, much to her chagrin. Rasaad: You sew your own garments? Nalia: Do not sound so surprised. Sewing relaxes me. It keeps the hands busy while letting the mind work. It's really not all that hard, once you get the basics down. The rest is just practice. Rasaad: And a little magic, I presume? Nalia: Here and there, Rasaad. Here and there.

Minsc: Friend Rasaad, I have a question, and Boo is being most uncooperative. What is a honeymoon? Rasaad: After two people are joined in marriage, they are provided with mead for a month in order to... ah... grow comfortable with one another. Minsc: So there are no bees? Rasaad: I have never been married, so I would not know. Jaheira: I can assure you, children, there are no bees on a honeymoon. Minsc: I shall take your word for it. Boo's answer involved both bees and birds. It was... confusing.

[postmoderntongues]

So are you a radfem or are you thirsting for girlcock? You are so all over with your posts are you pro-woman or pro-trans?

It has been like 2 years since I claimed the radfem label, I think they have a lot of really regressive ideas about horror and horror is my special interest as an autistic person and I really can't handle people who try to moralize fiction instead of calling their local precincts in a phone-bank situation and demanding that the untested rape kits be run or writing letters to women in prison/visiting elderly women in nursing homes, running drives for supplies for single mothers, escorting at a clinic, anything that takes more effort than going "that art that was made to be disturbing is disturbing so anybody who interacts with it or appreciates any aspect of it as art is immoral and a bad feminist". Like Yeah I like early Lucifer Valentine movies because they were a major part of my teen years and as a bulimic I relate to them in a weird way but Ive also volunteered as a clinic escort 3 times this year for a 7 hour shift in the freezing cold and last time I was in the hospital took both a girl who had never been before and was just 18 under my wing and protected her from the heroin fuckboys and also an older woman who was half-lucid I would personally go to her room when there was a meal or activity to make sure she didn't get left behind and we bonded over liking VC Andrews and she called me her "bonus granddaughter" by the time I was discharged, and then I called her twice a week until she was discharged and we lost touch. Can yall who judge me say that you've done as much? What are you actually doing for women if you are wasting time moralizing fiction?

Also i consider gender dysphoria to be a mental illness, which I personally have, I am detransitioned. I don't want people who have cocks in some of my private spaces but Im also a strong believer that we need to create 3rd sex safe spaces and cis-free spaces for trans people to be safe in. But im not "sucking girlcock" (im guessing you are a "rudefem" or whatever) by trying to be inclusive when I can be and treat everybody with dignity and basic respect regardless of their gender. I don't like making people feel bad because Im not trying to put myself in the place of the bullies who hurt me in my teens to feel better, it doesn't make me feel good to point out ways trans women don't pass or misgender them on purpose. When I feel as if I've hurt somebody's feelings, I feel bad. I don't have this hatred for trans people that a lot of the radfem community professes, another reason why I stopped identifying with the community. Again, when I was in the hospital, everybody under 20 was trans. I protected those kids FIRECLY. I corrected the old people immediately when they misgendered them ("You're so silly, Mr. Smith, Aiden is a boy, he just has a young face") and we had a lot of really great conversations about dysphoria which one of them later contact me on facebook and said I gave them the courage to detransition.

Im not trying to post "consistent" politics because I disagree with and agree with different aspects of most political issues and I don't owe anybody consistency. This is my personal vent blog Im not running for office. Ralph Waldo Emmerson wrote, "A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do. He may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall. Speak what you think now in hard words, and to-morrow speak what to-morrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict every thing you said to-day. — 'Ah, so you shall be sure to be misunderstood.' — Is it so bad, then, to be misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, and Jesus, and Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo, and Newton, and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh. To be great is to be misunderstood." I think that sums it up better than I could.

[yet-another-heathen]

4. Is there a kind of whump you wish you could write better?

12. What is one of the strangest things you have had to research for your whumpy writing?

25. What advice or wisdom would you like to share with other whump writers?

4. Is there a kind of whump you wish you could write better?

As I recently discovered with @redwingedwhump, the hardest thing for me to write is actually recovery arcs. Stories that have slow, emotional pacing and tend to be more driven by internal conflict than by external forces. I'm thinking specifically recoveries where the character(s) are already somewhere stable and safe, and are having to come to terms with things that already happened to them (instead of facing ongoing re-traumatization at the hands of the Plot).

And don't get me wrong, I still do enjoy writing slow, heavy scenes where not much physically happens! They're just as important to the story as a whole, and they can be a LOT of fun to read. But I can only write them in the context of shorter scenes within a larger story, where the emotions serve as a pause from the forward momentum of the plot. When those emotions are meant to provide the momentum on their own...that's when my skill set tends to feel stretched. (For the time being!)

12. What is one of the strangest things you have had to research for your whumpy writing?

Oh man... that's a hard one, because I don't really consider any of it strange. Niche, yes. Unusual, perhaps. But my deepest research dives have been into what it's like to live as an upper-limb amputee. Or into what medications are most useful for treating Long QT Syndrome, or what having an ICD go off feels like. Or alternatively, about foods and wildlife found in and around the ancient Syrian desert. Or about laqabs (that one was fun). None of it is actually strange, it's just about understanding the experiences of people whose stories we don't get to find unless we go digging.

25. What advice or wisdom would you like to share with other whump writers?

Take advantage of occasional unsanitary descriptions! Don't be afraid to make the things that happen to your characters be embarrassing and gross! I know we all love the pretty kinds of pain, but I feel like we shoot ourselves in the foot by leaving out the stuff that's gross or humiliating. If your whumpee is crying themselves sick, let them get snot on their face! If they just had a near-death experience, let them realize that they lost control of their bladder! If they're being kept like an animal in a cage, let them face ALL the consequences of ending up without a bathroom!

Those descriptions can each be incredibly brief, but just acknowledging that they're happening at all brings the whole story back to reality. If you go too long without them, your suspension of disbelief starts working against you. The whump your character is going through starts to seem oddly natural. Until suddenly there's something there that gives you just that tiiiiny jolt of "....oh. Oh god. It really is that bad, isn't it?" that truly renews the horror of what you're reading. There aren't many things that can have such a big impact on the overall reading experience of your story in so few words.

And besides, when you find various ways to take away the dignity of your characters (and I mean ALL of your characters, not just your whumpees), it's SO FREEING. You learn that you don't need your Aloof Dignified character to be aloof and dignified 100% of the time. And that in fact, when you find ways to take that defining trait away from them and they still come back to it after, that makes the character trait ten times stronger than it was before. Perfection kills personality. Humiliate everybody, and you'll see what they're actually made of.

[ivygorgon]

An open letter to the President & U.S. Congress

End the Massacre, Protect the Innocent

1 so far! Help us get to 5 signers!

As a concerned American and one of your constituents, I am writing to express my PROFOUND HORROR and OUTRAGE regarding our complicity in Israel’s genocide of Palestinians. The toll is devastating: over 43,000 Palestinians, including 16,765 children, and 1,200 Israelis have lost their lives, with countless others wounded, held hostage, or missing. In Gaza, Israel's blockade has left over 2 million people, half of whom are children, without essentials—food, fuel, water, electricity, and medical supplies. This collective punishment violates international law and humanity itself. On

February 25, 2024, Aaron Bushnell, a 25-year-old U.S. Air Force airman, took his life in an act of protest outside the Israeli Embassy in Washington, DC. Dressed in uniform, he set himself on fire while shouting "Free Palestine," expressing his deep disillusionment and refusal to remain complicit in what he saw as genocide. Bushnell's final act was a plea for justice and a testament to the moral crisis that weighs on us all. His sacrifice underscores the urgent need to address the humanitarian crisis in Palestine and end U.S. complicity. We cannot continue to support actions that blatantly disregard human life and dignity.

As you prepare to vote on aid to Israel, I urge you to stand against violence and advocate for an immediate ceasefire, the lifting of Gaza’s blockade, and diplomacy that upholds the rights and lives of all people in the region. Americans stand with peace and human rights, not oppression and endless cycles of violence.

The time to act is now.

Source: Al Jazeera - Israel-Palestine War in Maps

▶ Created on November 12 by Ret. SGT Guild, A Concerned Indigenous American

📱 Text SIGN PCYFOX to 50409

🤯 Liked it? FOLLOW IVYPETITIONS

[musicalhistorical]

Spider Sona drabble

My Spidersona was originally created for the little nightmares games, so here’s a short for her, be warned of blood, body horror, forced cannibalism, and gore.

@oopsitszuli feel free to lmk if you want to be tagged when I write things like this!

Friends were never easy to come by in the pale city. Nor were they permanent; Euphie knew by bitter experience how awful they could be.

But…Pepe was different. They’d been resourceful, clever. When things got too much, when Euphie felt the hunger overcome her senses, it was Pepe that made sure that she was alright.

It was Pepe who came up with a pill for her to take that could satisfy her hunger.

And it was Pepe who gave her hope of a different kind of world. With her careless optimism, with her pinkie promises and wilted flowers crowns, she’d make Euphie believe in a world beyond the pale city.

But nightmares are never satisfied with being at the edge of your mind. The signal got to Pepe, a fresh impressionable child, with a mind that was so gullible. The airwaves and the televisions were so bad around Pepe that Euphie had to go first in every room to ensure there wasn’t a television in it.

But Euphie couldn’t be with Pepe forever; and one day she was hiding from the teacher, tucked away in a crate high above the classroom. Pepe was hiding in another room, only to let out a shriek as the television’s cruel waves worked inhumanly fast to distort the child’s body. First the body elongated, spine poking out of her back slightly. Her hands and legs lengthened, fingers sharpening into nails.

Her mouth became crowded with teeth; whilst Euphie’s was manageable, Pepe’s mouth was painfully overcrowded.

When Euphie found her friend, Pepe was unrecognizable. Eyes bulging out of her skull, features looking as though somebody pulled them off and squished in new ones. Her cries were no longer intelligent, and Euphie knew, with the calm distinction of a farmer needing to shoot a lame horse that Pepe needed to be put down.

So…she lured her former friend out into the streets. There’s no use doing this with dignity; it’s Euphie or Pepe at this point.

The battle is horrid; Pepe’s shrieks as she is struck are akin to the child she was- is, Euphie has to remind herself- but then again isn’t she a child? Why must she do this?

But then Pepe lunges for her, long clawed hand swiping towards her, and it briefly crosses her mind as she realizes that her friend wants her dead.

Euphie has no qualms against killing.

Because in her city, it’s the more humane way to dispatch her enemies.

For Pepe, there is no exception. There’s no exception for not eating as a way to survive, and so Euphie tears into her former friend, blood from her once partner and only friend staining her spider suit.

When she is finished, the carcass is almost picked clean, and she feels a surge of intelligence after she licks her teeth clean.

Her friend is unrecognizable, a far cry from the shy, goofy, and intelligent child that kept Euphie comfortable when the nights in the Pale City became too terrifying to bear alone.

It is at this moment when she, a lost child with nobody else to turn to and the biggest loss in her life on her hands, finds herself within the multiverse.

When she sees the others, each a Goliath over her, a girl no more than 13 inches tall, she flees. Hiding inside a vent, one of the few places that offered sanctuary in the city.

Still, she’s offered a place to stay- or at least get cleaned up. Her teeth have permanently distorted the way she speaks so she can’t articulate her fears like the others can. When she’s shown the multiverse and sees Pepe’s hologram, she looks at the floor in shame. Hunger affected every part of her life, but how can she can explain it to these strangers?

How, when her worst crime is on display for them all to see?

She barely listens as they go on to explain the police captain. She doesn’t know what that is or why that’s important, so she sneaks out of the room- a habit she has that has allowed her to get away from the most dangerous scenarios.

When her disappearance is noted, the first thought is that she’s trying to get back to save whoever the captain is on her world. But she’s in the vents, avoiding everything as much as she can before getting to the kitchen.

And the others come in to see her digging into a raw steak.

[mismaeve]

The Gift

→ The Gift, Thranduil Oropherion x Fem!Elf Reader Word Count: 7.9k Warnings: angst, mentions of death and dead bodies, blood and slight gore, injury Prompt: "Have you no regrets?" Summary: Another war is slowly consuming Middle-Earth, and the Greenwood elves find themselves defending it against the evil forces. Taglist: @rainbowvamp @i-did-not-mean-to @wormsmith @lokineedshairgel @marvelschriss @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @blueberryrock @alldaysdreamers @heilith A/N: This is my own contribution to this month's writing challenge. I am super happy with how this turned out, and I am excited to be finally sharing this with you. I really hope you will enjoy it!

I pray you can forgive me for I should have waited.

The general slowly moved across the battleground, wrinkling her nose slightly at the sight of dead orc carcasses. Her eyes drifted to a couple of her soldiers piling up orcs to be burned. It wasn’t right, all this devastation and pain, all this death. Y/N’s footsteps grew slower until they came to a halt, and the general took a deep breath. The rancid air burned in her lungs and for a moment she felt sick to her stomach. The nature of war wasn’t lost on her yet to live through it was another matter entirely. Y/N allowed her mind to drift as her eyes wandered over the blood-soaked grounds. It saddened her greatly to see the lifeless bodies of her valiant soldiers among the corpses of orc filth. A misty veil fell upon her eyes as the elf general mourned her fallen kin. What a waste, what a gruesome waste this was. They didn’t belong here any more than she did, yet to march and defend Middle-Earth from everlasting darkness and evil had been their duty, and they had been called upon. And so, they had left the safety of Greenwood to venture South to engage the enemy on the East front.

A lone tear was working its way down Y/N’s pale cheek while she stood frozen, either unable or unwilling to move. We shouldn’t be here, my sweet. Many of her kin had fallen but not enough to weaken the company in her command. Still, it pained her greatly as her eyes moved from one fallen elf to another, making her heart ache unbearably. She knew each and every one of them personally, she knew their families and she had shared many a meal with them. They had been her friends, her family. Her sole responsibility was to keep them safe, to shield them from horrors such as war, yet it had been her to lead them here to their demise. They didn’t belong here, they shouldn’t be left here to rot among the dead ranks of their enemy, they deserved better. She owed them better, she owed them the same respect and dignity they had always treated her with.

“Redhedir,” Y/N called out softly to the young elf soldier who was currently overseeing the build of another corpse pile to be burned. “My lady?” the dark-haired elf was quick to make his way over to where she was standing.

“Gather however many you need to cover the ground in search of our fallen. I want all of them brought home to Greenwood to be buried with dignity and love,” the general’s voice was gentle and calm, even though rage was fuming inside her. As most elves, she was quite accomplished at keeping her composure, so much so that even her king saw attempting to read her as a challenge at times. She was excellent at masking her thoughts and emotions whenever she wished for them to remain private. Yet now she found herself struggling to do so, the wasted lives of her people weighing her down and shooting sparks to an already burning anger. “Of course,” Redhedir offered her a curt nod before hurrying off. Y/N’s gaze went back to the freshly made heap of orcs awaiting to be set afire. The general allowed herself to scoff quietly under her breath, it was more than this filth deserved. Even leaving them on the ground to rot was too good for them. Y/N knew it was her grief and anger talking now, just as she knew that they would double back eventually to clear the fields of all signs of war and death. It was against their nature to let something as foul as rotting orc flesh to stain and spoil the ground they walked on and the fields which brought them sustenance.

We nurture and we preserve, that is what we are tasked with. We do not paint this land red lightly, remember that always.

The general cast one last glance over the crimson spotted field littered with corpses before turning on her heel and heading towards the edge of the forest. Her mare was stood beneath the trees just on the outskirts of the woods. At the sight of her master approaching, the mare’s dark nostrils flared, and the animal gave a low neigh, as if to greet her master upon her return. “Elenath mellonen,” Y/N greeted her loyal companion, her hand going to stroke the mare’s long and muscular neck. She was a dark dapple-grey, thus earning her the name “all the stars of heaven” because of the thousand small white and light grey spots that covered her otherwise dark flanks and shoulders, and the length of her back. Elenath was a unique beauty but much like her master, she was also highly spirited and at times temperamental. Y/N hummed an ancient Elvish lullaby to soothe her companion while her fingers rubbed and massaged the animal’s neck, reaching higher and higher until they intertwined with Elenath’s long and dark mane.

“Do you miss our home too?” Y/N murmured as her own heart filled with horrible longing. They had marched from the safety and comfort of Greenwood months ago, yet the end of this war was nowhere near in sight. The Elvish general leaned her forehead against her mare’s shoulder, allowing her mind to drift back to home. She thought about the Great Hall, always filled with laughter and cheerful banter while everyone helped themselves to whatever delicious dish was being served. Y/N longed for the illuminated pathways weaving throughout the forest of their homeland, she longed for the sounds of birds, perching on high and low branches just outside her windows, gifting her with the privilege of their songs. She longed for the intricate hallways, so beautifully and masterfully crafted. But most of all, she longed for her husband and his touch, their blissful nights together when they would be alone in their chambers. What would he say if he knew? Y/N couldn’t help but send a prayer to the Valar that this war soon come to an end for she has been deprived of her husband’s love for far too long. There were no words, neither in Westron or Elvish, nor ancient Dwarvish, to describe the longing Y/N felt for her husband. At times it became utterly unbearable, making the general struggle to even fill her lungs with air. It felt as if her body was slowly dying without the touch of her king, her husband, her lover. She was a withering flower on a blood-soaked field, desperately trying to survive against all odds.

“Hiril nîn!” just as Y/N was about to lose herself to her torment and longing, Morfindaer’s urgent call beckoned her back to this world. She untangled her fingers from Elenath’s mane and watched as the young elf was dismounting his charger. He looked rather flushed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he hastily approached his queen. “Catch your breath, Morfindaer,” she spoke to the young elf soldier who gratefully bowed his head and allowed himself a moment to regain his composure. “Our scouts have sighted the king’s forces, they’re setting up camp just over that ridge over there,” Y/N’s eyes followed Morfindaer’s pointed finger to the ridge not too far from where they were located now. A warm sensation began like a soft and pleasant stream, taking course through her veins and invigorating her entire being just at the mere thought of seeing her beloved again after all these months. Perhaps it was time. Y/N closed her eyes as a hopeful smile was slowly beginning to decorate her features. As the Elvish queen opened her mouth to voice her joy over this happily unexpected news, she was interrupted by the sound of their horn signaling the return of their riders. A company of five were galloping towards their queen and general, their horses’ hooves unearthing dirt in all directions in their wake. They were making full haste towards her, making Y/N wonder if something had happened. Perhaps their scouts had sighted more orc filth in their vicinity but surely, they would have sounded the horn to indicate that the enemy was near, and they ought to get ready. Or perhaps they were rushing to bring her the news of something befalling her husband, their king. As soon as that dreadful thought entered her mind, Y/N forced it out. She would not entertain any such grim notions unless she knew for certain.

“My lady, we bring word from lord Thranduil. We are to unite our forces at their encampment as soon as possible,” Calemen, the second oldest of the five riders informed her upon their arrival. Y/N closed her eyes for a moment, utter relief washing over her bones and flesh alike. He had sent for them, for her. Unknowingly so, he has sent for you as well. “Then we must not keep our king waiting,” when she spoke, she was the same strong and capable general she had been only moments ago when her swords had slashed through orc ranks like they were nothing. As Y/N took hold of Elenath’s reins and moved to mount her, a very secret yet happy tear was slowly running its course down her cheek. Her soul would no longer be withering with longing, a breath of life was so near she could almost taste it. Soon, my darling. Tonight.

“Have our wounded mounted on horses for the journey. Prepare the wagons, we will bring our dead with us for now,” Y/N instructed from her horse as she adjusted her seat.

“Morfindaer, gather our forces, we are to march as soon as the wagons are loaded and horses ready,” her voice sounded her orders in a gentle yet subtly stern manner. The dark-haired elf offered her a quick nod before mounting his horse to go forward her orders to the rest of their remaining host. It was very trying to maintain a calm exterior when all Y/N could feel was utter excitement. Surely the others felt similarly, after all, Thranduil’s company consisted of their friends and brothers, fathers and sons. Soon, all of them would be reunited, a thought which filled the general’s heart and soul with warmth, for they were finally presented with a ray of light in their otherwise never-ending darkness and gloom.

With a watchful eye, Y/N followed the movements of her host, readying their horses and helping the wounded soldiers mount them. It pained her to see the pain written all over their features as they clutched at their wounds, blood running through their fingers and staining their neatly polished armour. She wished she could relieve their pain, she wished she could do more for them. For you. Y/N wished she could simply bring all her people home to Greenwood where they would remain safe, away from all this terror and in the hands of their skilled healers. Some of them had followed them from home, to tend to their wounded yet not enough, and their supplies were slowly beginning to run short. “Calemen, is there any word from lord Elrond?” Y/N asked the blonde elf mounted on his horse beside her, the both of them overseeing the host preparing to march. “Not as far as I know, hiril nîn,” there was sadness in his eyes as they found hers. He didn’t say but Y/N was sure he knew why she would inquire about lord Elrond. Elrond was a gifted and an accomplished healer, having taught the art of healing to many of the Rivendell elves. Elves that they now sorely needed. “There might be news of him at the camp,” Y/N suggested in hopes of reassuring the elf next to her. “Shall I ride ahead and find out, my lady?” Calemen asked, grasping the reins more firmly in his hands, ready to hurry off as soon as told. Y/N shook her head gently, offering the eager elf rider a soft smile. “No, that won’t be necessary,” Calemen nodded at her words and Y/N saw his hands relax, the previously tightly held reins now resting loosely in his long and slim fingers.

It wasn’t long before the field before her eyes was cleared of the deceased elves, their bodies carefully and gently put in wagons to be brought with them to their king. Y/N’s eyes darkened as she cast them over the remains of the enemy’s army. Where the foul creatures had cut down one of hers, her courageous warriors had cut down many a tenfold of theirs until every last orc had been slain. And the price they had paid for this victory, much like the one before and the one before that, was laying in their horse-drawn wagons. None of their triumphs had been entirely sweet, all of them bittersweet at best. Y/N paid her last respects to the place where many of her subjects had fallen and spilled their life’s blood in the name of everlasting peace, before nudging her mare forward with the gentle press of her heels. They would march in formation, Y/N at the helm of her army followed by a handful of those second in command closely behind her. She had chosen to have the wagons follow before the fighting soldiers, for she believed they deserved the honour of being at the head of their host for the invaluable sacrifice they had made in her name. It was only behind the wagons carrying their dead, that the actual host would follow. Her wounded would be in the middle of their formation surrounded by the able and the strong for protection in case they had a run in with the enemy whilst making their way around the mountain ridge. As their company began moving, the elf general sent yet another silent prayer to the Valar. Make it so that we may make our journey safely in peace for much that was dear we have lost already. ㅤ

As the first stars of evening rose high in the light-pink sky, Y/N ordered her host to a halt. They had been on the move for the better part of the day, and now that the light was slowly fading, it was time for them to rest. Although the wounded elves carried brave faces, Y/N sensed the state of pain and discomfort they were in. They needed tending, food and water, and a moment’s rest before they pressed further on towards Thranduil’s camp. “Make sure the wounded are tended and fed,” Y/N kept her voice low when giving her orders to the elves flanking her on both sides. Whether it was the waning light or a sense of foreboding, she could not tell, but she knew she did not wish to attract any more attention to their being here than they already had. The general’s eyes continuously scanned their surroundings, wanting to memorise every detail in case her host had to respond to an assault or flee from one they could not fend off. As the last light of day vanished from sight and darkness began its slow and menacing descent on the Elvish queen and her host, everything around them got eerily quiet. “Are we to set up camp, hiril nîn?” Calemen’s voice seemed several leagues away, the uncanny silence having a deafening effect on her senses. “Lau,” Y/N shook her head and closed her eyes. “My lady-,” Calemen started but was immediately silenced by his queen. “Shhhh,” she needed to listen, something felt strangely amiss. Y/N knew something was wrong or about to go wrong. As hard as she tried to listen, she couldn’t hear a thing save for the muffled sounds in the background made by her people. Something is terribly wrong. There were no signs of birds or any other animals for that matter. It felt like everything all of a sudden had frozen still. Too still to her liking. The longer she listened, the more uneasy she became, her body signalling her to remain alert. Something is coming. Y/N felt the cool evening breeze in her hair and on her skin, breathing it in, the general grimaced in distaste. The air bore a foul smell that burned like fire inside her lungs. Her heart sunk for she knew this particular scent rather well, it had become their constant companion, following them everywhere they went. The smell of death and destruction. While remaining in her trance-like state, Y/N felt her fingers reach for her sword. I will keep you safe.

Her eyes flew open at the sound of their horns somewhere in the near distance. Their scouts were signalling them that they had spotted their enemy. Soon after the first blast, more joined in, meaning only one thing. They were surrounded and the enemy was closing in on them like a hungry predator ready to tear them apart and devour their flesh. As if to announce their arrival, the air filled with the malicious howls of wargs. “Quickly, have the wagons pulled inside the forest for concealment, with any luck they won’t go looking there if we keep them occupied here,” Y/N was quick to give her orders, there was no time to be wasted, not when they were caught off guard in the dark. “What of the wounded? They are in no state to fight,” Calemen’s voice gave away his fear. Not for himself, not of dying but his fear for those who had been left weak and vulnerable. “Form ranks around our wounded!” Y/N’s commanding voice sounded all around them, making her soldiers gather around swiftly.

“Ready your bows!” the general bellowed her order and watched as her skilled archers sprinted to their positions. While Y/N’s host formed their lines and came together in formation, Elenath was getting restless, unable to stay still the mare was pawing the ground. It was meaningless to even attempt calming her now, Y/N was convinced the intelligent creature between her legs knew she would soon charge at enemy lines.

They could hear the shrieks and cries of orcs rushing towards them. Rushing to their death, the general thought in defiance as they waited for the confrontation, her archers ready to rain fire upon the evil creatures nearing them. There will be no mercy for the wicked. Soon the night would be filled with the clash of swords and cries of agony. Even though this could very well be the night of her demise, Y/N felt strangely calm. Her heart wasn’t racing, her breath was steady. The Elvenqueen was at the head of her army, ready and determined to lead her people to another victory. In the name of Greenwood and their king, they will hold their ground. Give me strength to shield us from this evil.

“Hold the lines,” her voice carried her strength and power when she addressed her warriors for one last time before all mayhem broke loose.

“Protect our weak,” Y/N continued, her eyes slowly and steadily moving from one elf soldier to another, engraving their faces into her heart should this night claim any of their lives. “No prisoners,” her tone took to a more threatening note as if to emphasise her message. “We may be surrounded and at a disadvantage, but we will endure,” the general’s voice rose as her fingers clutched the hilt of her sword, pulling it from its sheath and raising it high above her. “Send these creatures back to hell!” Y/N’s voice rumbled into the night at the same time as Elenath reared up on her hind legs pawing the air. The good will prevail tonight.

“Leithio i phillin!” she shouted and pointed her sword in the direction of their enemy. ㅤ

The booming roar of the mountain troll shattered the night like thunder. It pierced Y/N’s ears making the elf wince in pain. Shooting a quick glance over the field, she soon saw that their numbers were dwindling rapidly, they would not be able to fend off an assault of this magnitude. The orcs were mounted on wargs with several grown mountain trolls amongst their ranks. It was an uphill battle they were fighting, and they were losing. They needed aid but she didn’t dare send a rider out to Thranduil’s camp to ask for reinforcements, it was too risky. It was likely that the lone rider would be run down by wargs and torn to pieces. Another thundering roar brought her attention back to the battle and just in time as the queen immediately noticed a warg charging towards her, mouth open with baring teeth, ready to swallow her whole and send her to the darkest pit of hell. She gripped the hilt of her sword tighter just as the overgrown wolf leaped towards her, crashing into her and Elenath like a tumbling wall of stone. Elenath could not withstand the force with which they were struck, making the mare and rider alike go down. Y/N had driven her sword into the warg’s thick skull as they had collided, the beast’s heavy body landing on top of her as she struck ground. There was a crack and instant pain, sending an agonising shockwave throughout her body. No. Please. She struggled to catch her breath, the impact of the fall with the added dead weight on top of her, knocking the air out of her chest. Y/N coughed and grimaced in pain, a trickle of blood emerging from the corner of her lips. She was almost positive that she had broken at least one rib, most likely more than one. The general gritted her teeth and used all the strength she could muster and pushed the foul-smelling creature off her. Freeing herself of the heavy weight at last made her groan in pain but at the very least, she could finally breathe again. Breathe. Taking a deep breath that filled her lungs and made her ribcage scream in protest, Y/N carefully rolled on her side. The elf closed her eyes and braced herself for the pain which was to come should she try to get back on her feet. The air was thick with sounds of steel clashing with steel, arrows flying in all directions, the low and threatening growls of the wargs and roars of the trolls. She could hardly hear or sense her people; the havoc of this place was overwhelming and disrupting. With another pained groan Y/N got on all fours, her bruised insides making her cough up blood. No. Do not make it so, the general prayed in silence.

There was fighting all around her, she was bound to force herself up lest she be killed. Her insides were pulsating with pain, coming in waves, making her inhale sharply. As if sensing her master’s state, Elenath was soon by her side once again, giving Y/N a gentle nudge with her muzzle. “I’m alright, we’re alright,” the Elvenqueen whispered with a sad smile before clenching her jaw as another wave of pain overtook her. Elenath gave a low neigh before giving Y/N another nudge, this time more urgently. As her pain finally subsided enough for her to sense her immediate surroundings, she could feel someone, or something, approach her. Her hand reached for her blade which lay imbedded in the slain warg’s skull, her fingers wrapping around the hilt in time as the footsteps grew nearer. She would not give the enemy the satisfaction of killing her while she was down. The queen knew it was going to hurt, it would be agonising even but she was determined to keep on fighting until her last breath. I pray you can forgive me. The steps were nearly upon her now, an unknown fiend looming over her like a dark cloud, savouring the moment before striking her down. All her muscles tensed as she swiftly lifted her sword, swinging it fiercely at the unknown assailant Y/N got back on her feet with a feral cry. Steel met steel as pale eyes met hers. How could it be? Before she could utter a single word, let alone manage a respectful greeting of her king, Thranduil had withdrawn his sword and closed the small distance between them. “You’re hurt,” the worry in his voice was accompanied by the sorrowful look in his eyes. “Aran nîn, forgive me, I did not see-,” Y/N began to apologise but was unceremoniously cut off by her king. “Where are you hurt, meleth nîn?” Thranduil sheathed both his swords and once his hands were free, they went to cup her face, his eyes searching her face intently. “There’s no time for this now, we must…,” her voice trailed off as she finally noticed her husband’s host aiding hers, cutting down enemy ranks left and right. It appeared that they had been rescued and pulled from their impending doom. “Do you see? The battle is all but won,” his voice was reassuring and calm, “Now, you must tell me where it is you’re hurt,” he asked her in a more demanding tone. Does he sense it? “It is nothing, likely a couple of bruised ribs is all,” Y/N tried her best to hide the severity of her injuries, she did not want to add more worry to his already long list of troubles. “If I know my wife, then I know that her version of bruised ribs is most likely fractured or even broken,” he frowned at her through his bushy eyebrows, “Tell me, which of the two is it?” she could not hold his gaze any longer, casting her eyes down she let a yielding sigh escape her lips. Lying to her husband would be meaningless, Thranduil would see through it as easily as one sees through glass.

“The latter,” Y/N admitted as her eyes found his again.

ㅤ Thranduil had begged her to ride with him on his elk, but Y/N would not have any of it. Stubborn as she was, she gave her king no choice but to agree to her riding Elenath to his encampment. She had let him help her mount her mare but that had been all the aid she had been willing to accept for the time being. As his wife, she longed for his touch but for now it was completely out of the question, at least until she had seen one of the healers. We’re alright, she hoped against hope that the Valar had heard her prayers. Y/N tried to keep her breathing as shallow as possible, mainly because drawing deep breaths caused excruciating agony. Her breastplate felt too tight, making it that much harder to breathe properly. Her ears were ringing and the taste of blood in her mouth was making her sick. But she would show none of it, not when so many of her people had fallen, not when so many of them were in worse conditions than she was. “Are you certain you can ride on your own, meleth nîn?” Thranduil’s voice carried the worry he must have been feeling. Y/N turned her head and mustered up a smile before giving her king a nod.

“It’s not my broken ribs that pain me,” her voice sounded mournful as she spoke her truth to her king. Her eyes drifted from Thranduil’s as she took in the gravity of what had happened. Once again Y/N was facing a field covered in corpses. From what she could tell, nearly a third of her host was gone. She found that Thranduil coming to their aid and helping them to victory meant very little to her now. Grateful as she was to be alive and whole, Y/N couldn’t help but feel the sorrow and grief this victory had brought her. She wasn’t sure for how much longer she could go on, each day bringing more death with it, each night accompanied by more suffering. Her heart could not bear it. This isn’t the life I wished for you. “You were caught unawares, there was nothing to be done,” when he spoke, his voice appeared to be closer than it previously had. Turning to face him, Y/N saw that his elk was right next to Elenath, towering over her like a giant beast. “It doesn’t make it right,” Y/N responded quietly while shaking her head lightly. “None of this is right yet such is the nature of war,” Thranduil’s attempts to comfort her did very little, the guilt she was feeling was too overwhelming. “We brought them here, we asked them to fight, to die and for what?” Y/N felt her hold on her emotions weaken. She was too worn out, she could feel it in her bones, in every part of her being. “We have suffered an immeasurable loss, it is only natural that you would grieve,” the king reached over and took her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze, “But do not let your regrets rule your heart and mind, we are only doing what is right,” he reminded her softly. “And you, aran nîn, have you no regrets?” Y/N asked him as her eyes found his light blue-hazel ones. His expression softened as his gaze held hers, his pale hues unveiling the hidden truth. Suddenly, the great king of the Woodland realm bore a look of despair, making Y/N regret her silly question. Was she so distraught that she had lost all her common sense? “You need only look around to see my regrets, meleth, they are as plain as day,” he noted dismally. She hated herself for asking, she hated to see her beloved in such grave pain, she hated this war above all else. They would be mourning their fallen until the end of days by the gruesome looks of it. Yet there was hope, she bore it inside her still. Their hope. ㅤ

Thranduil had not pressed the issue of Y/N being seen by their best healer immediately upon their arrival at his encampment, for which she had been grateful. Until their wounded had been attended by their healers, given food and water, and sheltered in tents and larger pavilions, there would be no talk or mention of Y/N seeing a healer. There had been plenty to do for both rulers before they could retire to their shared tent. It was only when the bustling noises within their camp had begun to settle down, that the king and queen finally deemed fit to seek the solace of their private pavilion. “Allow me to help you out of your armour before I send for Nestor,” it took him only two large strides before he was right next to her, his fingers going to work on undoing the clasps attaching her cape to her shoulders before moving on to her breastplate. Being attended to by Nestor while Thranduil was in the tent was out of the question, not when he was unaware of her current condition. She would have to come up with a reason, an excuse to leave their tent. As soon as her husband had removed her breastplate, a shockwave of pain exploded inside her, her injuries appearing to be worse than she had thought. Much to her dismay, she couldn’t hinder the low groan that had formed in the back of her throat, making her husband stop what he was doing, and go around her to face her.

“You’re in pain,” he said mournfully, a deep sadness taking to his pale eyes as he ran them over her face. Y/N forced a weak smile as her palm found his smooth cheek, her thumb caressing it softly.

“You need to see Nestor right away, meleth nîn,” the king whispered as his hand went to his cheek to take hers, giving it a gentle squeeze before pressing their intertwined fingers to his chest. He was right, she needed a healer. She felt it could wait no longer lest she risked the unspeakable.

“I would much rather see Rîleth, she has been wonderful with caring for my company,” Y/N murmured softly, her eyes not leaving his. Thranduil watched her for a moment but didn’t question her choice. “Ethirdaer!” he raised his voice slightly so their guards would hear. Almost instantly, her husband’s guard entered their tent and bowed respectfully. “My lord, my lady,” the veteran guard addressed them.

“Send for Rîleth with all haste,” Thranduil ordered. With a quick nod of his head, the elven guard left their tent.

“Thank you,” Y/N said gratefully after Thranduil had helped her out of the rest of her armour, leaving her in her tunic and wool breeches. “I do not understand what is taking them so long,” he grumbled under his breath as he helped Y/N take a seat on his armchair. Her pain had subsided some but not enough to allow her to move freely and without discomfort. Thranduil would easily take notice of her hurt even despite her best efforts to hide it.

“Plenty of our people need tending, my love, we must be patient,” Y/N reminded him softly. She knew he was feeling restless and helpless because it was her who had been hurt, he really couldn’t stand the sight of his beloved in pain and discomfort. The absence of his reply told her he knew she was right. We are selfless, our people come first, remember that always.

“I must confess, sometimes I forget how selfless your heart is, my queen,” he whispered as he got down on his knee before her, taking both her hands in his, “But I refuse to let it take you from me,” he mumbled quietly against her skin before planting a tender kiss on her knuckles.

“There isn’t a force strong or powerful enough in this realm, to take me away from you,” Y/N reassured her husband. “We are not invincible, meleth, I will not have you perish defending this accursed land,” when he lifted his head to find her face, his expression was somber, his fear of losing her plain in his eyes. “What is this talk, my king?” Y/N asked, pulling her right hand from his she placed it on the side of his head, her fingers moving into his silken hair, “Was it not you who once claimed you pitied our enemy, for they had to fend off my swords?” “Your skill is unmatched, my queen, much like your accomplishments as the general of our armies,” he began slowly, leaning into her touch, “yet none of it should come at the price of your life.” Y/N was certain they wouldn’t be having this conversation at all had she not been wounded. It had been the first time her husband had seen her fall victim to injury, making him now ponder his fears out loud. She fought the urge to say that for as long as they ruled together, they would go to war together as well, for they were equals in all aspects. “I understand your fears, aran nîn, for I have my own of losing you,” she whispered tenderly as her fingers continued playing with Thranduil’s long strands of golden hair. “Should I come to suffer the day where I lost you, my heart would go with you, leaving but an empty shell and aching soul to walk this world without you,” Thranduil’s eyes closed at her words, as if they pained him somehow. “Then your heart must be a mirror of mine,” his words were barely audible, the tone of their conversation growing heavier still yet they had to accept it for what it was – the sincere truth. They had been husband and wife for centuries, it wasn’t long by any Elvish standards, yet their love for each other had grown during their time together. There were no more words left to say now, they had voiced their fears along with their ever-growing love for each other. Despite the screaming protests of her wounded insides, Y/N leaned down to find Thranduil’s lips in a gentle kiss which sent a soothing current throughout her entire body. Her discomfort eased significantly as their kiss began to grow, bringing to surface their need for each other, reminding them of how long they had been apart and denied each other’s touch. Unfortunately, their private moment was interrupted by Rîleth’s polite clearing of her throat. “My lord, my lady,” she greeted them with a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her delicate lips.

Neither Y/N nor Rîleth had missed the annoyed glance that Thranduil had quickly shot at the healer upon her arrival. Once the king of the Woodland realm remembered why he had sent for Rîleth in the first place, his expression softened, and he offered the healer a respectful nod of his head. The elf healer had only shaken her head in mild amusement before turning her attention to her queen. “My lady, how may I be of service?” Rîleth asked tentatively, her green eyes quickly going to Thranduil before finding Y/N’s again, a questioning look on her features. Y/N knew instantly what the healer meant and gave a very subtle shake of her head. “Perhaps before we begin, if it would please my lord, could we have the room to ourselves?” Rîleth’s sudden question caused the king to raise his dark eyebrows in question. “I beg your pardon?” his demeanour changed instantly, he almost looked insulted by her question. Y/N suspected that the healer’s request had seemed absurd to him, if not downright disrespectful. “I will not be dismissed as some-,” the king began, his voice growing icier with every word until the queen interrupted him, her words bringing his attention to her. “Aran nîn, she is not trying to dismiss you,” Y/N started slowly, careful to hide the true intentions of Rîleth requesting to be left alone with her, “I promised her advice on certain matters of the heart regarding one of your guards, I’m sure you understand,” she finished with a smile, her eyes going to the healer who thankfully understood what Y/N was doing, and gave a shy nod. “Matters of the…,” Thranduil mumbled before clearing his throat and straightening himself out.

“Of course,” he nodded before taking Y/N’s hand in his and kissing the top of it. “I will give you your privacy while I go check on our supper,” the queen offered her husband a grateful smile before he turned to leave them to their matters of the heart. ㅤ

“Forgive me, I couldn’t think of anything else,” Y/N went to apologise as soon as she was sure Thranduil was out of earshot. Rîleth shook her head in amusement as she approached the queen. “Do not worry, it is unlikely that the king will remember any of this once you bestow your greatest gift on him,” the healer’s voice was gentle and mildly soothing. Even her mere presence carried a certain calm with it. Y/N’s eyes went to her stomach before finding Rîleth’s again in a questioning manner. “And is there still a gift to bestow?” her words were a whisper, it was difficult for her to voice her question, and more difficult still to await its answer. The smile on the healer’s face turned upside down as she quickly got on her knees before her queen, her hands going to Y/N’s belly. “Did something happen?” Rîleth whispered as her hands began feeling the queen’s stomach. “I took a tumble and got crushed by the dead weight of a warg,” Y/N explained to the healer while she continued to examine her.

“Henion,” Rîleth nodded thoughtfully as her hands proceeded to work. Y/N was watching the healer elf, anxiously awaiting the final verdict on her gift to Thranduil. The queen had decided to have an elfling shortly before they had been called upon to defend Middle-Earth, and there had been no suitable time to tell her husband that he was going to be a father at last. They had been so taken with each other at first, Thranduil and her, that they had agreed to wait with forming a family. It was only rather recently that they both had talked about how wonderful it would be to have a young one running around and about their kingdom. Y/N grimaced in pain as Rîleth’s fingers came too close to her ribcage, disturbing her broken bones, making her instantly wish she had waited even longer. I couldn’t have known, she thought to herself, feeling tears welling up in her eyes. “I am sorry, rîan nîn,” Rîleth sounded apologetic as her fingers immediately withdrew from Y/N’s belly, “May I have a listen?” she asked the queen quietly, to which Y/N gave an affirmative nod before closing her eyes. Soon she would receive either the greatest news of her entire life, or the most devastating. The queen held her breath as Rîleth lifted her tunic and pressed her ear to her stomach. Hot tears were paving her cheeks as she continuously prayed to the Valar that her little elfling was unhurt. She could not tell how long the healer was listening to her stomach, her expert hearing waiting to hear any signs of life. At last, she could feel Rîleth lift her head, opening her eyes again, Y/N saw that the healer was smiling brightly. “Your little one is alright, my lady,” the healers words made the queen release a relieved gasp which soon turned into outright sobs. Each new sob brought with it a wave of pain from her broken bones, but Y/N did not care, her little elfling was unharmed and well. Her hands went to her belly, stroking it gently while tears fell from her cheeks. She thanked the Valar that they had heard and granted her prayers, vowing to tell her husband as soon as he returned. ㅤ

When Thranduil returned, he found his queen freshly bathed and her wounds tended. Y/N was comfortably bundled up in her evening robes as she sat in her chair waiting for her husband.

“How do you feel, my beloved?” he went to her at once, his eyes casting an examining glance over her frame. Y/N set down the cup of herbal draught Rîleth had made for her pain on the wooden table next to her chair, and slowly got up on her feet. “Much better, meleth nîn,” she assured her husband as she moved to embrace him. His arms went around her, and he gently pulled her closer to his chest, still mindful of the injuries she bore. Y/N went to rest her head in the crook of Thranduil’s neck, breathing him in she closed her eyes. He smelled like home, like the vast and lush forest which was their kingdom, he smelled of fresh wood and wildflowers. “I am relieved to hear that,” he murmured into her hair before moving to rest his head on top of hers. Y/N stayed in her husband’s embrace, relishing being able to be close to him at last after months of being separated by this cursed war.

“There is something I have been meaning to tell you,” the queen spoke softly as she broke their embrace. Thranduil’s face still bore the signs of being relieved at his beloved feeling better when her eyes caught his pale ones.

“Oh?” his fingers went to move up and the down the lengths of her arms while he waited for Y/N to share her wonderful news with him.

“Do you recall questioning the purpose of defending this, as you so eloquently had put, accursed land?” she asked him with a tilted head, raising her eyebrow she watched the king grow thoughtful. “Yes, go on,” Thranduil nodded after a moment.

“As luck would have it, I am about to provide you with one,” Y/N cast her eyes down to her belly before finding his eyes again, a warm and loving smile lifting the corners of her lips. Thranduil glanced to her stomach as well before his eyes found hers again. His eyebrows were slowly furrowing in confusion until finally realisation hit him, and his eyes grew wider. “Are you-?” Thranduil’s eyes went to her belly once again where they lingered for a moment. He was perfectly still, it seemed he was even holding his breath, his pale eyes intently focused on her stomach. “Yes, meleth nîn,” her words made his eyes find hers again. Watching her husband’s features melt and mould into a singular expression of pure joy, made her heart fill with so much warmth and happiness, she feared she might just burst. When Thranduil smiled, it reached his eyes, making them sparkle with delight. He swiftly closed the space between them, his hands going to cup Y/N’s face. He pressed his lips to her forehead in a quick kiss before moving to plant a tender kiss on both of her cheeks and lips. “When?” his excited state was making him appear to be out of breath, his chest was rising and falling more rapidly now. “Shortly before we marched, if I had known-,” she wanted to tell him that she would have waited, that she would not have risked it while they were off at war, but Thranduil cut her off. “Shh, my darling, none of it matters now,” he reassured her before planting another soft kiss on Y/N’s lips, “All that matters is the life you carry inside of you,” he murmured before he moved his hands and carefully placed his palms to rest on her stomach. The queen smiled warmly at the sight of her husband’s glee, there wasn’t a single worry on his features, the dreary clouds had vanished from his bright eyes, and they finally shined with hope. “I’m to become a father, a dream I dared not dream while forced to endure this inferno of flames and death,” he whispered as he leaned his forehead against hers, his palms remaining where they were, on her belly which carried his child.

“Are you pleased, my husband?” Y/N asked quietly, her hand going to Thranduil’s cheek. “Pleased?” he breathed out before chuckling lowly under his breath, “Darling, this is the greatest gift you could have ever bestowed upon me,” he whispered in a state that was near euphoric. Y/N felt tears of happiness building at the corners of her eyes, tears of utmost joy and overwhelming glee were taking control of her body and spirit. She almost felt guilty of being this happy when there was so much death and destruction around them. But to see her king be besides himself with joy shoved her guilt aside and made way for more delight, it meant the world to her to witness his spirits be lifted.

Y/N watched as Thranduil got on his knees before her and carefully, as if not to hurt her or the elfling inside her, pressed his face to her belly. The queen’s hands went to rest on his shoulders as her king kissed the fabric of her robes where her stomach was. “My little leaf, it’s your ada,” Thranduil’s voice broke half-way, the king being overwhelmed with the emotion of this intimate moment. When he glanced up at his wife, there were tears in his blue-hazel eyes. “I ant lîn vîr vin faer nîn,” he whispered to Y/N as a single tear was making its way down his pale cheek.

“Gi melin,” the queen murmured lovingly making the smile on Thranduil’s face grow even wider. “I love you too, my wife,” he breathed out as he quickly got back up on his feet, his palms going to cup her face once more as his lips met hers with passion so fierce and fiery it could set their entire kingdom ablaze.

ㅤ

Glossary:

Mellonen – my friend

Hiril nîn – my lady

Lau – No (no indeed not, on the contrary)

Leithio i phillin – release your arrows

Aran nîn – my king

Meleth nîn – my love

Henion – I understand

Rîan nîn – my queen (rîan – queen/crowned lady)

Ada – father (dad)

I ant lîn vîr vin faer nîn – I shall treasure your gift in my heart/ your gift is a treasure to my soul

Gi melin – I love you (informal)

[thetargaryenbride]

You Are Worth It [Levi x Reader]

Summary: You were ready to do anything for this man and if that meant defending him from your own comrades, then so be it.

Set before and during the No Regrets OVA

This is for @vennilavee  ‘s Writing Challange. I had fun writing~ 

This scenario is actually a part of my OC’s story BUT I decided to change it up a bit here and there and make it into a Levi x Reader instead. Enjoy!

Word Count: 7646

Warnings: Violence, Vulgarity, Profanity, some gore, some harassment

Pairing: Levi x Fem!Reader

Feedback is deeply appreciated~!

｡☆ ❅ ★���━━━ ❅ ━━━━★ ❅ ☆｡ 

❅

The Underground.

It was a foul place – lawless – full of thugs, drunkards and creeps. Unfortunately, it was also the home of women who most of the time had no other choice but to sell themselves, it was the home of sick people who only wished to glimpse the sun, and it was the home of malnourished orphans who died like flies in the dirty streets. And nobody was doing anything to help those in need.

Nobody but you.

You remembered the first time you set foot in the Underground. You were just but a little girl, holding tightly your step-mother’s hand as she made her way through the muddy streets, not caring whether her dress would get dirtied. You smiled fondly at the memory. Your step-mother’s friend had lost the rights to her citizenship and was hurdled into the clutches of the Kingdom of Shadows, being forced to work as a prostitute. But the two women kept being friends and your step-mother frequently visited to bring her food. You went only once but it was more than enough to break the pretty picture you’ve imagined – of a place safely tucked below the Inner Walls, with glowing crystals and beautifully shaped stalagmites. It was a hellhole.

You still thought of yourself as a little, naïve girl. You blamed your parents’ coddling. You were supposed to be more aware of the real world as a teen and almost young adult. You wanted to know the truth and the horrors that accompanied each day. That was one of the reasons you also wanted to join the Survey Corps. But you had promised to yourself that you’d join after you face the hell that is the Underground and after you offer some help to those who need it. After all, how could you fight and protect people from the Titans, if you couldn’t even protect them from fellow humans?

“Listen now, little lady, I know that you wanna do some charity shit down here but we also have work to do instead of escorting you. Just because your father is the Deputy Commander-,” grumbled the Military Police soldier from behind you but you didn’t pay him any attention. Instead, your ears strained to hear another sound – a child crying. You hushed the soldier and before he had the chance to give you some scathing remark, you walked away from him and towards the sound. The alleys were too narrow and the repugnant smell of piss and alcohol was heavy in the air but you tried your best to ignore it and kept walking. Turning right, then left, you came to a dead end. And there it was – the child – crouching on the ground with his knees pressed to his chest and little hands rubbing at his eyes.

You approached slowly and knelt down, your gown puddling all around you, the light blue fabric immediately getting mudded and dirtied.

“It’s all right. I’m here. No one is going to hurt you. I got some food too,” you spoke gently as to not startle him as your hand took out an apple from your bag and handed it to the child. He looked at you with big eyes and you offered an encouraging smile. That smile fell off your face the second you heard the clicking of a gun right behind your head. It pressed against you roughly, almost ruining your perfect bun. The child simply stood up and ran away.

“Now, don’t move, pretty thing. We don’t want to accidentally blast your head, do we?” came in a man’s gravelly voice, sending shivers down your spine. You dared not move as you felt him getting closer, his breath tickling your neck. “Ya better get those money ready, lass," he hissed out and you willed your body to stop shaking. It was impossible. Were you going to go out like this? Murdered by some thugs? Were you going to rot in this very same alley? Before you got the chance to see the outside world?

There was a swooshing sound. You closed your eyes, anticipating the worst, but then strangled grunts and coughing was heard, making you snap your head in the direction of the sound. Your eyes widened as you saw the two men fall dead on the ground, clothes soaking with the crimson blood that leaked from their throats, some managing to drop onto your cheek. Your eyes focused on a third man who was cleaning his knife. He didn’t pay you attention as he pocketed it and turned his back on you, ready to walk away.

“W-wait!” you called out and he halted. Let me at least see your face. Let me at least learn your name. “You saved me… I-“ you stuttered out but he interrupted you roughly, turning around to look you in the eyes. He was the most handsome man you’ve laid eyes on. The pampered, powdered noble boys couldn’t hold a candle to his rugged looks and the aura he was giving off. He had raven hair, locks falling around his eyes, pale skin and sharp eyes the color of a stormy sky. His clothes were a little bit baggy but even like this you could tell his body was built nicely so you assumed that he was a thug as well. Speaking of clothes, his were way too clean and pristine for someone living in such a filthy place.

“Don’t waste your breath. Go back upstairs to your gold and fine porcelain. You don’t belong here,” he spat out and your eyebrows furrowed as you slowly stood up, coming face to face with him.

“I’m sorry but you can’t say where I do or do not belong to. Maybe I don’t really fancy the world you speak of,” you told him firmly and his gaze lingered on your for awhile.

“You’re a lunatic then,” were his last words before he walked away.

｡☆ ❅ ★━━━━ ❅ ━━━━★ ❅ ☆｡

You didn’t listen to the man. One bad experience and some rude words weren’t enough to convince you otherwise. In fact, that made you more stubborn and you soon found your way in the Underground once again. This time you carried a knife. Your grandfather had taught you how to throw them and you regretted not bringing one last time.

The day passed by in a blur. The heavy bag full of bread and left-over pastries from your family’s bakery was now empty and you were ready to head back home and take a long bath. But you stopped when you heard a commotion. You bit your lip. You didn’t want to risk getting caught up in something again. But your heart was beating faster and your body felt warmer the closer the sound got and you supposed that there was some supernatural force that was pulling you towards it. Soon enough, you found yourself in the midst of a brutal brawl. The same guy who saved you a few days ago was being ganged up on. He was surprisingly holding his ground, sending lethal punches and kicks his enemies’ way. But you should’ve known they would fight dirty as one of the members sneaked behind the guy and prepared to shoot him in the back.

Your body moved before you even ordered it to, hand grabbing the knife hidden in the pocket of your dress and throwing it. It embedded into the head of the thug and he fell. Everything stopped for awhile. You could see the two members of the group looking at you with both shock and rage. You could see the surprised expression on the guy’s face, his arm up in mid-punch. Then there was a bang and you felt a searing pain in your middle region. Your vision blurred and the last thing you saw was the guy who saved you pummel the remaining members of the gang to death and scream something at you.

｡☆ ❅ ★━━━━ ❅ ━━━━★ ❅ ☆｡

When your eyes fluttered open, they saw an unfamiliar ceiling. Your first instinct was to stand up and run but your body was too tired and the only thing you managed to do was shift and move your head.

“Finally awake?” came in a voice and you gasped as you saw the same guy. Had he saved you? What exactly happened in the first place? You wanted to ask him multiple questions but the one you settled on was:

“Are you all right?”

He shot you an incredulous look.

“You were the one who got shot, dumbass. Worry about yourself,” he grumbled, furrowing his brows and you let out a weak chuckle.

“You are right… You know, we’ve saved each other’s lives so many times already and yet I do not know your name.”

“It’s Levi,” he answered your silent question and you smiled as bright as you could.

“Nice to meet you, Levi! My name is Y/N! Y/F/N!”

His eyes widened a fraction as he stared at you, a spark of what seemed to be recognition, relief and even fondness could be seen deep within. He uncrossed his arms and walked out of the room. You counted the minutes awkwardly, fiddling with your fingers or clenching and unclenching the sheets, before you finally decided to sit up. It was a struggle. The bullet had got you in the upper stomach but apparently he had nursed you back to health. You noticed that your torso was neatly covered in clean bandages as the blankets slid down a bit, making you shiver at the bareness of your arms. You blushed at the thought of him seeing you like this but nothing could be done. And you didn’t care that much about dignity and nudity when it came down to saving lives – others’ or your own.

Your thoughts were interrupted when he walked in the room, carrying a plate with peeled and sliced apples. For a moment, he stood by the doorframe simply watching you, before he made his way towards you and sat on the corner of the bed, placing the plate on your lap and outstretching his other hand. Your eyes fell on what he was holding and you gasped as memories from years ago flooded you.  

The day when you had been so curious you had begged your step-mother to take you with her. She had agreed and you had made your way to the Underground. You had stuck close to her as she walked into what you now knew was a brothel.

❅ 

“Carol! It’s so good to see you!” exclaimed your step-mom and the other woman chuckled as she gave her a hug.

“You didn’t have to bring so much food again. I’m so grateful to have you.”

You smiled as you watched the two women converse but your attention was stolen by a figure in your periphery vision, making you completely turn around. It was a boy. He didn’t seem to be much older than you. He was wearing a ragged shirt that reached his knees and some worn out pants but his hair looked clean and neatly cut. He watched you shyly, interest sparkling in his eyes as he took in your appearance. He had probably never seen a noble in such a place. You smiled and waved at him and he mirrored you after his hesitation worn off. You took a few steps forward and smiled brightly at him.

“Hi, there! What is your name?”

“Levi,” he uttered and you put your hands on your hips. You probably looked ridiculous – a child with lots of baby fat, trying to look and give off a motherly aura.

“You are very thin, Levi. That just can’t do!” you exclaimed in disapproval as you reached into the bag of food your step-mom had brought, taking out a few apples and placing them in your white apron. You neared the boy and beckoned him to take them. “Here, take these! Dad always says that an apple a day keeps the doctor away!” you grinned.

He gulped and his hands trembled a bit when he took the fruits from you, eyes gazing into your own with such gratitude and respect. And because you were so focused on his features, you noticed some smudged dirt on his left cheek. You clicked your tongue as you grabbed a handkerchief from your pocket and proceeded to wipe his face since his arms were busy balancing the apples from falling out of his grip.

“You got some dirt here. It’s very important to stay clean, you know,” you told him gently and he nodded.

“My mother says the same,” he whispered and you smiled as you tucked your handkerchief in his pocket.

“Then you keep this and make sure to stay clean,” you smiled at him before your step-mom called you and you had to bid him goodbye.

“Wait!” he called out and you looked at him over your shoulder. “What’s your name?” he asked timidly and you grinned at him again.

“Y/N! Y/F/N! It was nice meeting you, Levi! I hope we can meet again!”

❅

But you never met him again. When next time your step-mom had returned from her visit and you had asked about the boy, she said he was nowhere to be found but there was a rumor that one of the women working there had passed away and her child had disappeared.

“We meet again,” you sent him a watery smile as tears gathered in the corner of your eyes. You didn’t know why, they just did. You never pegged yourself as an overly emotional person but life was a mysterious companion.

“Yeah,” drawled the man quietly and for the first time since you’ve met, that permanent frown was replaced by a small, soft smile.

｡☆ ❅ ★━━━━ ❅ ━━━━★ ❅ ☆｡

Since that fateful meeting, your visits to the Underground became more frequent. You didn’t only want to do charity but you wanted to visit Levi. He told you to not come back. That it was dangerous. But you didn’t listen. You wore simpler dresses – not the big, intricate gowns. You tied your hair in a simple ponytail or bun – not the stylish hairstyles screaming that their bearer was a noblewoman. You usually never wore jewelry with the exception of the earrings your step-mother had gifted you, but you took them off during your visits, trying to blend in the best way possible. Of course, you were a woman, therefore it was only natural to attract creeps. But you managed to deal with them. You just wanted to help children and see Levi. Was it that much to ask?

“Eeh! There is a body of water this huge? And full of salt!? I cannot believe it!” exclaimed Farlan.

“It’s true! It’s written in a book that’s been banned by the government! Why do you think they banned it if it wasn’t true!?” you shot back.

“So, you mean to tell us that there are also fields of sand and multicolored lights in the sky in North?”asked Levi while he was focusing on polishing his knife.

“I know it may sound too incredible to believe but I know it’s the truth! I just know it! And I’ll go beyond the walls and see it for myself!” you grinned enthusiastically and Levi’s eyes moved from the knife and onto your form, one eyebrow raised in both question and challenge.

“Hooh? And how are you going to do that? By going on lavishing balls in Mitras?”

“By joining the Survey Corps!” you declared and the silence became so heavy that you could cut it with a dull knife. And suddenly, all hell broke loose.

“What?! Are you insane!? You actually want to join them and go fight titans?!” shouted Farlan as he stood up from his chair and you mirrored him, crossing your arms.

“I’d pick the titans ten times over the political wars we’re waging in the capital and all the hypocrisy and backstabbing!”

“You’re gonna get eaten! Do you really want to face such a death?!”

Their shouting match was interrupted by Levi’s almost frighteningly low tone, making them sweat and gulp.

“Oi, brat... Tell me you’re not serious… Tell me you’re just…in a phase or something,” he said as he put the knife on the table, his attention now fully on you. You sighed as you slowly sat back down on the sofa, a sad smile gracing your features as you looked at the two men. You contemplated but in the end you decided that you had to tell them.

“I’ve been serious ever since I saw my mother get eaten years ago,” you confessed and their eyes widened.

“What?” stuttered out Farlan as he slumped back down on the chair.

“I haven’t told you, have I? I was…five when mom…snapped, for a lack of better word… She told me that she wanted to see the outside world and I… I was so excited!” you gripped the fabric of your dress so tight that your knuckles turned white. “We sneaked outside the walls and… I was saved just on time by a Survey Corps soldier… My mom on the other hand,” you uttered, biting the inside of your cheek until it bled. “Shiganshina will always be my hometown. I can’t stay in Mitras. I can’t! My place is not inside the walls.”

“I thought you were… noble,” murmured Farlan and you chuckled.

“That’s half the truth. My father IS the Deputy Commander of the Military Police. Even before that, he was rich and powerful, coming from a family full of soldiers and nobles. The most respected family… One day he met my mom in Shiganshina. He was already married at the time but… One thing led to another and…here I stand,” you explained. “He would send money but I never saw him until…that day,” you gulped but the pain and bad memories were replaced by determination and bravery.

“I’ll join the Survey Corps. I’ll see the outside world. And I swear to you, once I am capable, I’ll get you two citizenship. I won’t let you rot in here,” you stated firmly and the men could only stare at you with both concern and fondness.  

｡☆ ❅ ★━━━━ ❅ ━━━━★ ❅ ☆｡

In the end, you did exactly what you wanted. You joined the Survey Corps after graduating top of your class. At first you were placed in Ness’ squad but after your first expedition and after you showed incredible skills and potential, you were moved to Erwin’s squad. You proved how great of a strategist you were and you showed them your political skills when it came to dealing with the Royal Assembly. That gained you lots of respect from the higher ups within the Survey Corps. You also built a name for yourself as Humanity’s fastest because all fellow soldiers who’ve seen you fight, including veterans, have said that there was no one faster. You didn’t brag though.  

Now, a year later, you were a squad leader yourself and there were rumors that you would be promoted to Captain. You smiled at the thought. You pushed your body and mentality way over the limits to prove yourself worthy as fast and as efficient as possible in order to gain a title – to gain power – because thanks to that it would be easier to save them.

Just hang on for a bit more, Farlan, Levi. I’ll soon be able to get you out of that hole.

Flagon’s fist hit the table as he growled in irritation, interrupting your thought process.

“Quite frankly, this is humiliating!”

“I couldn’t agree more,” nodded another Section Commander by the name of Deckan Caddel. His demeanor seemed calm but his eyes were glinting with a murderous intent. You never liked him. Sure, he was great soldier. But he joined purely out of revenge and bloodlust – because his father was eaten. He didn’t care about protecting Humanity. In fact, he always had such disregard for people, especially those who weren’t from Wall Sina like himself.

“Are you honestly telling us, who have always held formality in high regard, to accept a bunch of criminals?”

You had half a mind to tell him to chill the fuck out but you bit your tongue. Flagon was a good guy beneath his prejudices.

After discussing the newly recruited members and the formation that Erwin suggested, the meeting was over and everyone left. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Deckan ogling you before he walked off. You narrowed your eyes but brushed it off as you made your way to the private quarters aligned with your office and prepared for bed. Tomorrow morning the said criminals would be introduced to the others and it will be decided in which squad they would be put on.

｡☆ ❅ ★━━━━ ❅ ━━━━★ ❅ ☆｡

You were…shocked. The criminals everyone were talking about were none other than Levi and Farlan accompanied by a younger girl. Your mind didn’t even comprehend Commander Shadis’ words or the trio’s introduction. You were too busy staring at them, still unable to process that they were here, donning the noble uniform of the Survey Corps. You gulped down the tears threatening to spill and patiently waited for the introduction to be over. While Flagon was busy with subtly expressing his disdain of the three being placed on his squad and sending sharp glances Erwin’s way, you finally managed to gather the strength to come closer and into their line of sight.

The moment Levi’s eyes clashed with yours, you felt like crying and running to embrace him. Your heart started beating faster and your body warmed up after feeling so cold for literal ages. You didn’t know how this man; why this man; had such an effect on you…but you loved it.

His eyes widened and he subtly elbowed Farlan whose attention shifted to where he was looking at. He wasn’t as subtle as Levi though and his reaction was quite open as he pretty much gawked at you. Both men’s eyes shone brightly with fondness and relief.

Even when everyone were dismissed and allowed to go back to their own business, you didn’t. You quietly followed after Flagon as he walked the new recruits to the barracks.

“You two men will sleep here,” you could hear Flagon instructing them from your place in the hallway. “You lot have been living in the dumps of the Underground but do try to keep this place clean,” your eyes widened comically and you almost choked on thin air. Just as you supposed, Levi’s outraged “huh?” followed right away and he neared Flagon threateningly, breaking his personal bubble.

“W-what’s with that look?” stuttered out the man and you decided to intervene before it had gotten out of control.

“Now, now, Flagon, you used to sleep in those barracks too. But you’ve probably forgotten that they always have been dirty,” came in your voice, making everyone’s heads snap to your direction. Farlan’s lips twitched in a smile but Levi’s face was composed. Flagon clicked his tongue.

“And what are you doing here, Y/L/N?” he asked with a sigh and you shrugged, fully entering the room.

“I just came here to make sure you don’t start a fire or something,” you shot back teasingly and he rolled his eyes before turning his back on everyone.

“I’ll leave you to it. And next time don’t try to approach a commanding officer with such attitude. Maybe Y/N will be able to teach you some manners,” snapped Flagon and Farlan tried to salute respectfully.

“Yes, sir!”

“Your hand’s upside-down! You begin training early tomorrow! I expect you to be punctual!”

The moment Flagon was out of sight and earshot you didn’t hesitate to throw yourself at the two men, hugging them tightly. Farlan was quick to return the embrace but Levi froze for awhile, hesitating, before he awkwardly patted your head as you sobbed.

“It’s you! I can’t believe it!” you pulled away and took a good look at them. “You seem healthy. I’m so happy to see you! I still can’t believe that it’s you who Erwin recruited. He must have seen incredible potential! We have so much to talk about-“ your rambling was interrupted by a coughing, making you face the redheaded girl.

“I think we haven’t officially met! My name’s Isabel Magnolia! Nice to meetcha!” grinned the girl and you smiled at her, shaking her hand.

“My name is Y/F/N. It’s pleasure meeting you! You are probably confused as to how we know one another but I’ll tell you everything!” you hooked your arm around hers and tugged her towards the door. “I’ll show you to the girls’ barracks and,” your gaze flickered to the boys, finding Levi’s and holding his for awhile. “I hope I’ll see you two shortly.”

｡☆ ❅ ★━━━━ ❅ ━━━━★ ❅ ☆｡

You had talked to Isabel until the late hours, telling her about your background, about how you met Levi and Farlan, about your life in the Training Corps and then as a soldier in the Survey Corps. There was so much to talk about and you really wanted to make friends with her since she seemed to be someone very important to Levi and Farlan.

The next day had rolled fast and before you knew it, everyone were up and about – training. The three newbies were to be evaluated today – their skills tested.  

Levi was walking amongst the horses, mind wandering off to the mission at hand. If he wanted it to be successful, he had to play by the Survey Corps rules and one of them was to learn how to ride. Isabel had no problem with it. She seemed to be natural. Then again she has always been an animal lover so he wasn’t surprised at how fast she grasped horse riding. Farlan had some troubles with the horse he had chosen, the mare too feisty for him to handle. And Levi? Well, he still hasn’t chosen one.

“I think she likes you,” came in your gentle tone and he sighed, grateful for the momentary distraction. You came to stand beside him and before he could ask, you pointed ahead, making him focus his vision onto the beautiful black mare that was intently staring at him.

“You know, it’s not only you choosing the horse. The horse has to choose you too,” you told him as you both approached the mare and Levi slowly outstretched his hand, allowing the animal to sniff him before licking it. He smiled when she nudged his hand, beckoning him to caress her.

“Her name is Danika. I raised her,” you smiled and he lifted his eyebrows. “And this is Astaroth. My partner,” you grinned as you pointed to the horse right next to Danika. He was the biggest horse Levi has seen amongst all Survey Corps horses and the only one with such unique coloration.

“He seems a bit…different than the rest,” he mused and you hummed in agreement.

“They had found him outside the walls a bit before I joined. When I tell you he was wild, I mean it. They hadn’t been able to tame him never mind how many times they tried. Then I came and tried. My way. And it worked. He became my partner since then. He’s the strongest and fastest horse in the SC history. Trust me, it’s not easy riding him into battle sometimes but I’ve grown used to it,” you explained and he huffed.

“It’s not only about growing used to it. You yourself are probably a great rider. A natural,” he commented and you shrugged.

“Maybe…Say, do you want to ride together?” you asked and he nodded.

“Sure.”

That’s how you found yourselves riding the horses deep into the forest and away from all the ruckus in the training grounds. You wanted Levi to truly feel and experience the riding and bond with his horse which took some time instead of immediately jumping onto the animal and rushing it into gallop like what most did. And while the silence was comforting, you decided to break it.

“One of the perks about being a part of the Survey Corps is that you get to live surrounded by nature. Just look at it. Look how beautiful and peaceful it is. Fields upon fields and forests upon forest. So much greenery and beauty,” you sighed dreamily and Levi hummed in agreement.

“It’s not bad.”

“At the same time if you get tired of the peace and quiet, you can just roam the halls of the castle or the training grounds and sink into the pleasant noise of soldiers chattering, laughing, eating and training together,” you smiled as you looked at the man. The green shadows the trees cast upon him and the flickering-through-the-trees light bathing him made him look so beautiful, so relaxed…so gentle. Then your thoughts wandered off to a place deeper and darker.

“I still can’t believe that you’re here. That you chose to join the Survey Corps… I’ll be honest with you. I don’t think you guys are ready to be soldiers. Not yet. You need so much training and the expedition is too soon and,” you realized you were rambling so you took a breath and exhaled slowly. “I just…I just feel like Erwin’s offer and your decision will bring some catastrophic consequences. I trust my intuition. It has never failed me.”

“A bit too late for that now,” huffed the man and you bit your lip.

“Why didn’t you wait a bit more for me? I’m sure you calculated almost three years in the Training Corps and then one or so more until I get a higher rank-“

“I thought you were dead,” he interrupted you with a soft, heavy tone that surprised you.

“Eh?”

“There were a few times when I would overhear the MP soldiers talking. They spoke of failed expeditions and death. They mentioned you too. Humanity’s Fastest, huh?” he shot you a wry smile and you blushed but held his gaze as he kept talking, the smile turning into frown. “Not long after, I heard them talking about a particularly nasty expedition that resulted in lots of death. That even you weren’t fast enough to escape.”

“Oh, Levi…It’s…It’s my fault for not finding a way to contact you. Trusting someone blindly and waiting for years is just…not possible or rational,” you looked away and squeezed your eyes, your grip on the reins tightening. Levi shook his head.

“I don’t blame you. It’s not like you could’ve come visit personally or sent letters. So you don’t blame yourself either, brat.”

The following weeks were a pure bliss. You spent all your free time with Levi, Farlan and Isabel, filling them in on everything that had happened throughout the years and helping them adjust to the world above.

But dread came. It came too soon for your liking – in the form of the 23rd Expedition.

｡☆ ❅ ★━━━━ ❅ ━━━━★ ❅ ☆｡

Your squad was mostly responsible for support and defense. Whenever someone shot a black or a purple signal, your squad was to go and assist the squad that had shot the flare.

That’s how you had clashed with Flagon’s squad and you had to combine your strength in order to kill the horde of titans that had appeared suddenly. It was overbearing and a member of your squad was nearly eaten by an abnormal. It was an aggressive abnormal, like nothing you’ve encountered before. Despite the warnings of your squadmates, you had jumped into action, slicing off its hand and entering its mouth in order to grab the girl’s ankle and haul her out. The tongue had been so slippery from the leaking saliva that you had slipped and half of your body had fallen into its mouth. When your arm ceased holding its mouth at bay, it clamped down – not hard enough to snap you in half but hard enough to cut into your meat. Levi had been the one to save you, slashing at the titan and then catching you as you fell once the monster had released you.

Now he was standing awkwardly to the side, fists gripping tightly the handles of the swords, yet shaking, as you were sitting on the ground, back leaning against your horse who had crouched down to serve as your pillar, with the female soldier you had saved wailing and fumbling with the bandages.

“Calm down, dear, it’s not that deep. I just need you to tie the bandages very hard, ok? Like you’re tying a corset,” you encouraged her weakly but her hands seemed to shake even more. Levi tsked as he grabbed them from her hands and shooed her away silently. He grabbed your arm and carefully helped you up, turning you so your back was facing him.

❅

“Wow, Levi, you sure know how to treat gunshot wounds,” you commented as you observed the way he had nursed your injury. It had been a few days since the incident and you were already able to move. The man shrugged.

“Used to it.”

“I have to return home. My family must be worried,” you muttered as you looked apologetically at him. “Do you think you can help me put on my dress? The corset is a pain and it still hurts when I stretch.”

“Tch, come here.”

“Ouch! That’s too tight!”

“Just bear with it.”

❅

He pulled sharply at the bandages, the sound of fabric rubbing harshly against fabric and skin almost sickening as well as the way your waist and belly seemed to become flatter and flatter due to the force and how tight he was tying the bandages around your abdomen. You kept silent. The only thing you allowed were small grunts of discomfort slipping through your lips.

“O-oi, isn’t that too much?” snapped Flagon but you shook your head.

“It’s better than bleeding out. Besides, I need to go to Erwin and the Commander,” you grunted and Flagon furrowed his eyebrows.

“Elaborate.”

“I don’t like this weather. I have a bad feeling about it. It wouldn’t be wise to keep fighting if it starts pouring. It wouldn’t be a problem for the titans but it will be a major hindrance if we cannot see clearly. I’ll go to the center and talk to the Commander,” you explained while Levi finally finished with bandaging you. Your eyes locked and you exchanged gratitude silently. His gaze stayed longer on your form, eyebrows slightly furrowed in concern before he got onto his horse.

“You do have a point. The weather will be very problematic but on the other hand, we cannot cut the expedition so soon. We just left the walls,” reasoned Flagon and you sighed as you climbed on Astaroth. When he felt you on top of him he finally rose to his legs.  

“We can go back and wait until the weather is better, then continue. We are not going to lose anything if we just wait for a bit in Shiganshina.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think that the Royal Assembly will be understanding regarding this matter. They are already up our asses, threatening to defund us at every turn. This will be a good opportunity for them to spit on us yet again,” he growled and you sighed. He had a point, but still…

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about the Royal Assembly. I can deal with them. But I won’t risk the lives of my soldiers and comrades,” you declared firmly and your squad smiled as they looked at you with love and admiration. You were a great leader and you were already thinking and behaving like a Captain. That’s why you were so deserving of this title.

“Let’s go,” you commanded and everyone turned their horses, ready to gallop towards the center.

“Y/N,” Flagon’s voice halted you and you half turned to face him. He had a solemn look on his face. “You can’t save everyone.”

“I can try.”

｡☆ ❅ ★━━━━ ❅ ━━━━★ ❅ ☆｡

Flagon had been right. So right about you not being able to save everyone. You realized that as you stared at Farlan’s body – bitten in half and lying in the mud with his intestines hanging. Or Isabel’s head at Levi’s feet. Flagon and his squad’s bodies were distorted and strewn throughout the field alongside their horses. It was a nightmarish sight to see. Even more so than usual. Who would have known that there would be more aggressive abnormals? You wanted to throw up right here and now but you were too focused on Levi. Levi whose raw, pain-filled, raging screams you had heard just a few minutes ago. Levi who was trying his hardest not to cry, yet his tears were still there mixed with the remnants of the rain droplets. Levi who screamed at Erwin, confessing that his true goal was to kill him before falling to his knees, seemingly giving up on life.

After Erwin spoke to him and left alongside his squad, Levi didn’t move from his position, eyes hidden behind his bangs, but you still knew that they were focused on Isabel’s head, probably flickering onto Farlan. Your squad members looked at you worriedly. You were too still and unresponding. They weren’t used to seeing you like this.

You gulped as you took a few hesitant steps forward, kneeling in the mud beside the broken man. The same man who you now, after this gruesome expedition that almost cost you your life, finally came to realize you held feelings for – feelings stronger than what someone would hold for a friend.

You gently took his bloodied hand and his eyes snapped to you when he finally lifted his head.

“Let’s go home,” you whispered as you sent him a small smile and he lowered his head again. Despite all, he allowed you to hold his hand and help him stand up and lead him to his horse.

The journey back to the walls was silent. Levi was to ride with your squad. You wanted to watch over him. You were at a total loss. You didn’t know what to expect from him. Therefore you didn’t know what would be the best way to comfort him. One thing was for sure. You had to be ready for him acting like a cold dick and trying to push you away. You supposed that with personality like his, that behavior was to be expected.

｡☆ ❅ ★━━━━ ❅ ━━━━★ ❅ ☆｡

And you had been completely wrong. He didn’t do anything like that. He didn’t push you away. He wasn’t cold. In fact, it was the total opposite. He accepted your comfort. He accepted your affection, albeit hesitantly. He allowed you to be near him and make him company. You didn’t talk much. Just being near one another was enough.

He thought that you were the only person he had left now. Like hell was he going to push you away. He wanted to be strong and go through this alone. He didn’t want to burden you with his pain. He knew you were suffering too. Yet deep down he bitterly admitted that he needed you to be there for him. He needed you to hold him. He needed your reassuring words and your company that soothed the aching throb in his soul.

❅ 

“Do you believe in reincarnation, Levi?” you asked him one night as the two of you were seated on the rooftop, staring into the skies.

“I don’t know anymore,” he whispered.

“I do. I believe that this body is just a shell and when it crumbles, our soul leaves and finds another one, either on this world or on another. Just look at the sky! It’s so huge! And I’m sure that there is more behind it, the further you go. Worlds upon worlds,” you smiled breathlessly and he raised his eyebrows, looking at the stars intently, as if trying to see beyond them the worlds you were speaking of. “I like to believe that all my friends who die get reincarnated into a world beautiful and free of titans and get to live normal and happy lives. That’s why I think that there is a certain beauty and relief to death, even if it hurts so much.”

“It doesn’t sound half bad,” he breathed out and you gave him one of those warm smiles that poured light into his heart. The type of smiles that almost had him smile back.

❅

He was probably exaggerating but from now on, you truly were…

His everything.

He didn’t care about anyone else. Why should he? It’s not like they cared either. In fact, they kept calling him a criminal. They kept being rude and condescending, mocking him at every turn. Hange, Erwing and Mike were the only exceptions so far, willing to befriend him and actually putting an effort in doing so. And you of course. The rest of the higher ups kept quiet so he didn’t know how they felt about him. But out of all, there WAS one bastard that just couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He always went overboard with his insults and disrespect that even some of the cadets who used to hate Levi thought it was barbaric and had a change of heart regarding the matters.

Yeah. His name?

Deckan Caddel.

But you? You were brilliant. Every time Deckan would insult Levi openly, you would jump in his defense and insult the bastard just as fiercely which would make him glare dangerously at you before storming out. Levi always berated you.

“Tch, I don’t want you getting in trouble, dumbass. It’s not worth it.”

But to you it was more than worth it. So you fought. You fought for Levi.

And everything was good until one night, after waking up from a particularly nasty nightmare, you had rushed out of the comforts of your personal quarters and down the hallways. You wanted to go all the way to the male barracks and seek Levi’s comfort but a figure had halted your journey, making you stumble and almost fall down the stairs if a large hand hadn’t grabbed your arm roughly, shoving you against the stone wall.

“And just where is the little slut going?” taunted Deckan and you wriggled, trying to get out of his grasp.

“Let me go!”

“Nah, I don’t think so. Just who do you think you are, huh, little girl?” his voice sent shivers down your spine as his hands held your wrists so tight you swore you heard the bone crack. “I don’t care whether that sewer rat is your lover or your fuck buddy. You aren’t a Captain yet. So if you continue to oppose me and publically humiliate me just to defend him… I’ll make sure to break the life out of you, you hear me?” he growled as his knee slammed into your abdomen, causing you to groan in pain and cough out bits of blood. Said knee then slid down and came to rest between your legs, pressing onto your crotch and making your eyes widen in panic as your struggling became more fierce. “I’ll break you in every single way,” he drawled and his other hand went to grab your chin, squeezing it tightly. “And then I’ll make sure to suspend you from the Survey Corps,” he spat out and your eyes widened. “Or better yet. Now that I think about it, an accidental fall down the stairs might just do the job for me,” he smirked deviously and you gulped, anticipating his next crazy move.

Before any of you could do anything, a hand shot out from the darkness. It grabbed Deckan’s collar and harshly pulled, causing the man to steer off balance and lose his footing. You watched with a combination of relief and horror how everything happened as if in slow motion – him outstretching his hand in order to grab onto something, his body going further away from you before hitting the stone and proceeding to roll down. A thud was heard some seconds later, followed by a painful groan.

Then the sound of someone’s kick connecting with someone’s jaw echoed through the hallway, finally snapping you out of your stupor as you looked down to see Levi crouching down next to a beaten and bloody Deckan who was barely conscious.

“Touch her again and during the next expedition I’ll personally shove you into a titan’s mouth. I’m done with being silent and taking your shit, you filthy swine,” growled Levi and Deckan could only look in fear through his swollen eyes, barely nodding his head. Levi tsked before he climbed the stairs once again, taking your hand and quickly leading you into your office.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you whispered as he closed and locked the door.

“So I should’ve let that mongrel push you down the stairs?” he spat out and you shook your head. “He deserved what he got. I don’t regret my decision.”

“No, but-“

“Don’t! Just…don’t…” yelled Levi before his voice settled into a pained groan, almost cracking as his head lowered letting the bangs cover his eyes, his body slouching against the door. You knew that look. The vulnerable look. “Please, don’t get hurt…not because of me,” he mumbled. “It’s not worth it.”

You frowned as you approached him. Without hesitation, you took his face into your hands and kissed his forehead before you settled his head onto your chest, arms engulfing his form.

“How many times do I have to say it? I’ll die for you if I have to. Because it is worth it. It is worth it if it’s for your sake,” you whispered into his ear as one hand went to stroke his hair and he relaxed in your embrace, sighing softly as his own arms went around your body, pulling you even closer.

“Live for me instead.”

❅

❅

❅