#I personally diagnose him as lame

[thaltro]

WHOA WHHOOAA WHHOOOAAAAHHH holy shit i really love this

I hope this guy knows he's cool as fuck

Psychology belongs to @thaltro

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Outbreak Pt 2 (LU in Healthcare)

Legend slurped on his energy drink, anxious to get to work. He and the entire night shift had been called in early to attend some training for this new virus that was potentially a problem. Administration mandated everyone attend to see how to don and doff personal protective equipment.

It was mildly exasperating, as it had cut into his sleep and he'd run out of time to really grab an actual breakfast. But whatever. He paid attention as best he could, leg starting to bounce with nervous energy. When his phone buzzed, he glance down, distracted.

The name Zelda was on the screen, and he immediately tuned out everything around him.

They hardly messaged each other, really. Birthday wishes, the occasional "are you alive" text, that was about it. It was hard to maintain much of a good relationship sometimes, given... well, everything.

Hey. So. I have this patient. Heart attack, CABG, pathway, blah. But he's got family who knows you?? I just want to make sure??? Like he seemed legit but still. Says he goes by Wild.

He... the heart attack patient from yesterday...

Shit.

Legend texted quickly, gaze flicking between his phone and the person wearing a gown in the front. Yeah, I know a few people named Link, so we go by nicknames.

His sister's reply was practically instantaneous. Still not over the fact that you call yourself Legend LOL you're so lame

Legend huffed, feeling his cheeks flush. THERE'S A REASON OK

Uh huh. Sure. So this Wild dude is legit then? I didn't let some random stranger into my pt's room yest right?

Sighing, Legend replied, Nah he's legit. Good guy. Wish he could've told me his dad was here.

Because it had to be his father, right? The more Legend thought about it, the more it made sense. The man looked just like Wild, except for being older and more worn out. He'd been reaching out to Wild, calling out his name, in a frenzy. Wild had been acting strange. The long drawn out gaze with Time. All of it.

"Legend."

Glancing up, the travel nurse saw Warriors standing over him, looking grim. "Uh... Wars, you good?"

"Hope you paid attention to the training," Warriors said. "That patient who got diagnosed with Arfy at the urgent care is here. You're taking him."

Legend blinked. "He's--he's here? Did he get worse?"

"Yeah. They're intubating him now."

Great. As if his stomach wasn't in knots already. Warriors gave Legend the room and said that would be his only patient to try and decrease cross contamination with other rooms. Legend ran the training demonstration in his head, now mildly panicked that he'd ignored some of it in lieu of talking to his sister, but it was fairly straightforward. Everyone was already masking as a precaution, he just needed to start wearing gowns and goggles and face shields too.

Time to get to work.

XXX

Wild paced in his bedroom, simultaneously annoyed and thankful that he had tonight off. Everyone had texted him by this point asking if he was alright, and while he appreciated the sentiment, he really had no way of conveying that he desperately wanted and needed to keep his past separate from his present.

He hardly knew his life before Castle Town. But what he did remember was enough. He couldn't--he couldn't go back to that life. He'd lost everyone, and it had been his fault. As his memories had come back, he'd doubled down on avoiding his past, including his family.

How could he possibly reconcile the old him with who he was now, after all? He just wanted to close that chapter of his life. He just wanted closure, period. He was terrified of seeing his family again. What would they think of him? How could he have left them like he had? How could he ever return to them?

He... he wanted to check on his father. But he knew by now the rest of his family was likely at the hospital, and he did not need to see them. Guilt twisted his gut as he stared out the window, watching the cows graze in the pasture.

Sighing, he went downstairs, catching sight of Malon watching the news. He distracted himself with asking her what was up, and she said, "There's ten more cases of Arfy in town."

Wild blinked. Ten? Hadn't there just been one yesterday?

That... didn't bode well.

Before Wild could comment, Wind skipped in, having mentioned he was dropping by for dinner. "Yo, you guys should see the picture Legend just sent me of this guy's chest x-ray!"

Wild and Malon both crowded around Wind's phone to look at th eimage, and Wild asked, "So what am I looking at?"

Malon hissed, staring at the image. "Those lungs look awful."

"Right?" Wind glanced up at the OR nurse. "I'm surprised they have any compliance."

Wild stared at the pair dully. "I take it it's bad."

"His lungs are shot," Wind emphasized. "Like... they look like they're rocks. Legend said they can barely get the guy to oxygenate."

Wild felt a new twinge of anxiety in his chest. This new illness had been tearing through some cities in the Gerudo Desert, and now that it was in Castle Town...

As if he didn't have enough to worry about. He sighed. Hopefully his father would get better quickly and his family would leave before anything truly terrible happened.

Hopefully nothing terrible would happen at all.

[jonahmagnus]

I make them transgender. Okay?

Headcannons below the cut ✂️!

Isabeau (he/him): Isabeau wanted to name himself Isaboy because he thought that would be funny (it is) but his mom wouldn't let him legally change his name to that so he chose Isabeau, which is exactly two letters off from Isabel. People still call him Isaboy as a joke, though.

The first person he told was Max, both because xe (Max) is ambiguously transgender in every universe, and because xir dad cracked his egg by showing him that masculinity can be whimsy and joy and not just the hardened role hes been forced to play until now. This realization would probably come after a short but very intense femme phase after whatever happens to his grandpa happens (exorcism hopefully) where he tried to embrace traditional "girly" things and while the freedom was nice he hated it so bad and eventually realized he was just forcing himself into another box. Him and Max are the Buzzcut Brothers during highschool.

Anna (she/they): Anna wanted to name herself Miku, and then remembered that she was white. She decided to name herself after the titular Anna from Fr/ozen, which is lame but its a "fucking Mildred?" situation where her friends are begrudgingly supportive. You can't really see it well, but her hairties are the same magenta as Miku's!!

The realization would come after like... years of repression and thinking that feeling Wrong is a problem unique to her and that Nobody Else Has Ever Felt This Way. The catalyst is an argument with Max over it which xe says "just google it, stupid". She does and then stares haunted at her computer screen and the posters of pretty anime girls up on her walls. How her favorite stories all feature transformation. She probably tells Doorman first, at like midnight, and then frets over her contact list before she calls up Max. Xe comes over grumbling the whole time but still supportive has she sobs her eyes out over this realization and gets snot into xir sweater. Xe makes fun of her name but nicely. And then xe asks if she wants to hear any other diagnosises that Max thinks she has. She says "no thank you I've realized enough for tonight ♡" and she is later diagnosed with autism, ocd, bipolar personality disorder and depression.

Crash (they/them): Crash names themself both after the titiular bandicoot and in honor or Crush, the guy who strangled them the day they realized they where nonbinary. This name is awesome and literally the perfect choice for them, its the perfect amount of absurd to suit them and also a normal enough sounding word that people would do a double take when they introduce themselves.

The first person they tell is honestly? Probably Rj. After a few weeks of Knowing that their... not cis, they track down Rj when their alone and explain the situation to them. Their super supportive, obviously, and extremely excited to have cracked Crash's egg. They are delighted by the name and in honor of the choice Rj takes Crash out to egg some houses with the jang. Crash tells the rest of the jang next, with Johnny being deeply enthused by the same they chose and concinved them to try and let Ollie roll them like a bowling ball. Ollie does so and another beautiful friendship is formed. Stephen solemnly tells them "Im proud a' you Crash, gender is a scam made up by the goverment to track our bathroom usage and its pretty cool that you're sticking it to the man like that". Crash nods equally solemnly in response, appreciating how thats fully just a fucking insane thing to say. They nervously tell Isabeau (who at that point is probably still Isabel) over text the next day, who then hunts them down to squeeze them in a hug.

Max (-/-): Max, of course, looks the same in every timeline. No matter what, they have a buzzcut and their name is Max. Cis girl? Buzzcut. Trans girl? Buzzcut. Trans guy? Buzzcut. Cis guy? Buzzcut. Nonbinary? You're never gonna belive it, but, they have a buzzcut. It/its situation in every timeline too. Doesnt matter the combo. She? She/it. Makes 'shit' puns about it. He/it? He is gonna "he/it" you with his car. They/it? Theres no pun for this one but it'll find a way to make one. It/its classic? Also no pun but it gets a boost to its attack speed so it doesnt really need one.

Max doesnt really come out to anyone. Xe doesnt feel the need to. You dont know its alphabet and you will never learn. If it feels like sharing xe will. If it doesn't, it wont. If you try and make it join a pronoun circle against its will, it will pull the god danm fire alarm. It will tell you its not cis but will not tell you in which way.

"Max, why dont you come join the pronoun circl-" "Spender, if you dont stop trying to get me to share my alphabet, Ill take a "she/it" on your work computer and pull the fire alarm"

[Plain text: "Max, why dont you come join the pronoun circl-"]

[dadsbongos]

wild bug sluts at club cocoon!

@toxycodone aot fic is here!

12.5 k words / warnings - pinv sex (unprotected), cunnilingus, HEAVY tragedy, thematic objectification, toxic relationships, cannibalism but not for realsies just for play, modern AU, gendered trauma -> fem reader but only for the angst of it all she's more like an actual character

summary - Reiner and Zeke share a birthday, Zeke usually takes all the attention but a year ago Reiner decided to do something selfish: now he has to face it and you. You just want to go out with someone that likes you.

~~~

“You think she knows how to make a tequila sunrise?” Eren leans against solid oak, flagging the bartender before folding his arms -- silver rings glinting beneath a mosaic of colored lights. Pinks and blues melting into dark purple on black tile.

“In a bar like this, I’d hope…”

“Hm, and what do you mean by that?” Eren shoots a quick, halfhearted glare.

Reiner sighs, “Bars with personality.”

“Ha!” Eren puts in his order as the bartender finally graces them, something much blander than a tequila sunrise before smacking knuckles against Reiner’s chest, “And a tequila sunrise? Can you do that?”

She blinks at him, lips bent dismally, “Yes. I can.”

Eren nods curtly, watching her work before murmuring to Reiner, “Ooooh, didn’t even ID us.”

“They ID’d at the door.”

“I was joking,” Eren suddenly snorts, “Zeke gets dragged here by his girlfriend sometimes, and they don’t even ask for his.”

“He’s like fourty, though.”

“Thirty-two, but close.”

Once both men have their drinks, plus a bottled water in Eren’s other hand, they make way to their booth. Occupied by Armin and Mikasa sitting shoulder-to-shoulder as Armin scrolls his phone. Mikasa’s chin digs into his arm so she can share the view.

“Lame-os,” Eren slides the water towards Armin, “You on Reddit at a club?”

“A guy left his wife when she was diagnosed with brain cancer and he’s asking if he’s in the wrong,” Mikasa looks up from Armin’s screen, “So far, I say so.”

“Where’s Jean?” Reiner scans the bumping throng clotting the dance floor, pinpointing Sasha’s bouncy ponytail and Connie’s bald head and twinkly earrings along the fray. Nowhere around them is the patchy bleached hair of Jean.

“No idea,” Mikasa’s eyes continue roaming the post as Armin lifts his head, swiveling the area before shrugging.

“Go find him.”

Reiner takes the sarcastic bite as a tride duty, swinging back his sunrise before clanking the glass onto the table. He promises to be back soon; Eren calls him a true knight in wrinkled cotton shirt.

His first step into the crowd is met with much resistance, packed flesh squeezing him around the shoulders. Hands skim his forearms and heads thud into his biceps and he’s graceful enough to not take the contact personally. A Saturday night is bound to be lucky for those parched of bitter liquor and hot skin. Reiner regrets sucking down his drink as his feet jumble along the floor.

Even with the advantage of being a head taller than most nightcrawlers, Reiner struggles to discern his position. He’s jostled between a woman in a blue slip dress and a man in a Hawaiian shirt and jeans. Turning swiftly is a mistake, feeling as if his brain swirled off its stem -- caught in a cyclone like the lone olive in a martini. More pressing, however, is the fact he cannot make Eren out; everything outside the bumping floor is bathed in pitch black. While everything contained on the floor is purple, overhead hues blurring together on shimmery dresses and wandering legs until all he sees is an eye-twitching shade of violet.

Jean is most likely fine -may have even ran off to the bathroom- because seldom does Jean find himself the center of danger, that’s Eren’s prerogative. Irritation begins to nip at Reiner the more he’s pushed, irritation he knows is solely his own doing.

Nobody asked him to hunt Jean down, but he wanted to be the hero in finding him. Nobody asked him to not shove back, but he would look like a meathead jackass otherwise. Alongside being much taller than others, Reiner is much bigger: typically the biggest guy in the room on any given day. He wields it well, he promises his mother, he isn’t rough nor is he particularly vexing, knowing any fights he picks he’ll win.

Reiner almost elbows the next person to touch him.

A soft hand curling around his wrist. Nails scooping crescents down to bone.

Instinctually, he rips away only to whirl around and glare upon the bold grabber. A rehearsed apology surges onto the tip of his tongue, which he must bite back: why should he apologize?

You grabbed him.

Now, you’re smiling up at him.

“You looked lost!” you shout over the thumping music.

Dark lipstick stains your words, dredging any purity or innocence, and a tight dress draws eyes to cinched spilling fat. Vibrant pink splashes across you, hot flares highlighting the folds of fabric around your waist. He has the strangest impulse to flatten them out. A flash of blue drowns you out before he’s blessed with another burst of bubblegum.

Babydoll lashes bat at him, your head cocks, “Don’t tell me you’re drunk.”

“I’m not,” he has no reason to answer you, and there’s no logic to why he feels the need to prove it.

“So, you’re lost?”

Reiner shakes his head, almost like a child asked -with crumbs all over his face- if he got into the cookie jar. The hand previously snug around him arises, fingers splayed wide.

Does he have to be one or the other?

He supposes he wouldn’t even know what to say otherwise, so he must be.

Surely, you’re the answer. Surely, you can help. Surely, after he takes your hand he’ll feel all better.

Blue and purple lights section off chunks of your face, eyes low and smile wide -- sharp canines neon in the lighting.

You look like sex.

Reiner misses sex.

He webs thick fingers between yours and glides through sweltering, clumped bodies behind you. Hungry hands swerve him into the mens’ bathroom, it reeks of alcohol and overly enthusiastic cologne; a scent immediately overwhelmed by dewy rose perfume. Arms flung around his neck, you’re smearing lipstick around his chin, on his cheeks, and along his jawline.

Blindly stumbling into the first stall, Reiner sighs against your mouth, “Jump.”

Big hands brace the backs of your thighs, lugging you up and pushing you against the door -- slamming it shut and fumbling to slide the lock. Reiner feels you snip his bottom lip with knifepoint teeth, making him squeeze your hips, bruising himself around you. As his fingers worm beneath the hem of your teeny dress to smuggle your panties, you unlatch from his face.

Warm skin and a thundering chest, your pulses are practically mingling. You cradle his face, “So handsome, aren’t you? You look like you like me.”

“Does that make me more handsome?” he, admittedly, sounds pathetic. Not that he can imagine a better way to sound if it makes you hold him tighter.

“By far,” you titter against his mouth, dragging your palms down his cheeks and smoothing them along his throat. Digging your thumbs into his adam’s apple just to hear him wheeze.

So confident. So brash. As if he won’t drop you and walk out right now for the offense.

He doesn’t, he only kisses you harder.

Again, he reaches higher up your dress and, again, he’s met with pain. You suck the bottom lip you tore open and swallow his blood.

“You want me?” you tease.

“Bad,” he confesses, hot-faced and receptive to whatever you’ll give.

“Good boy,” you round your hands around his neck as if to choke him, “Would you let me do whatever I wanted to you?”

The bathroom door swings open. Men’s shoes squeaking across dirty floor and their voices a low rattle.

“Anything.”

“I’ll take care of you, Reiner.”

“Okay.”

Confused hums and awkward chuckles from outside the stall are somewhat familiar. Eren, maybe. And someone else. Someone he tries to forget about. Someone you held hands with on his birthday, at another person’s party.

Nails shredding through his tendons, vastly different from the playful indents you made on his wrist. Bared teeth sink into his neck. Thighs wind tighter around him, until he’s sure you could snip him in half. Spiney barbs prickle from your flesh into his, tethering you both together. Pain and pleasure burn him up, scorching every contact point between you both until he’s shuddering and whining and twitching. You bite harder, when you pull back there’s blood drenching your gums.

Reiner blinks up at you as your mouth gapes, you stare him down along the bridge of your nose and he feels small. Tedious workout schedule and pride be damned, he is petrified under your fangs and wriggling between your legs in vain.

Despite -or perhaps because of- his struggle, you’re laughing. You’re laughing and you surge forward to bite his head off.

Which, at the prospect of not having to return empty-handed to his friends, seems better than living. He would rather you kill him than return to the apartment he shares with his worst friend Porco, and he would rather bleed out in a dingy bathroom stall than go to bed alone.

You’re beautiful, at least. His most selfish request now could be that he stares at you a few more minutes.

Reiner’s knees flail, buckling the instant you’ve got the taste of his flesh -- he staggers back onto the toilet with a clang and screech of protesting porcelain. Someone bangs on the dark green stall wall, and the faint, hedonistic laughs of voyeurs sounds faraway underwater. Raw iron floods his nostrils, mixing with your floral perfume. His muscles lock, disregarding his acceptance to fate, giving one final defensive squeeze to your hips before he’s entirely limp.

Softly, your lips skim his one last time. You smile against him with a whispered ‘thanks, big guy’ and he’s inclined to smile back.

This is okay.

This is okay.

This tequila sunrise is okay.

You make it better.

“Too much orange juice,” Reiner pushes his glass away, a lone maraschino cherry left to spin in the sudden ruckus. Bobbing in a fingernail’s depth of cloudy orange.

Much too boldly, you and Eren reach for the stem at the same time and Reiner has to hold the glass still as you two try shoving the other away from a mediocre prize. As usual, you win, but only after having smacked Eren’s hand away.

“Hey!” Eren whines, reaching over to yank the cherry out of your mouth. He barely manages to snatch the stem between forefinger and thumb, twiggy thing snapping off completely. He throws it in your face as you laugh.

You beam at the attack, letting the stem bounce off your cheek as you chomp the cherry.

Not the trait of a cannibalistic creature at all.

You’re just a fleshy and tender human, but they don’t bite their mates’ heads off so that reality makes it harder for him to indulge fantasy. Easier is the mockup version of you to be around, the one where you two aren’t close friends and you’re not a person. He prefers to imagine sex with the version of you that’s a cruel, carnivorous mistress because that might be the only you he deserves.

So, he’ll continue killing himself off by your hand instead of confessing anything.

“Here, we can makeout and you’ll get the taste,” you stretch forward, puckering your lips cartoonishly.

“How nice of you!” Eren sarcastically chirps before sliding out of the booth and extending a hand for you.

He’ll continue watching you flirt with Eren.

Wild pounding on creaky wood startles Reiner awake.

He shoots up, chestnut brown sheets flying around his hips. Porco’s grating voice booms through the otherside of the door, “Your friends are here, fuckface! Get up!”

Reiner wants to strangle his roommate on a good day, and this is looking to be one of the worse ones. He physically rolls out of bed with an aggravated start, one which completely fizzles out once he’s opening the door. Porco has apparently abandoned ‘Reiner’s friends’, his keys missing from their shared hooks and shoes gone.

Reiner’s dream is already oozing out his ears in favor of following Eren’s retort,

“Did he forget he’s friends with my brother or some shit?” Eren tries to bury his annoyance beneath playfulness, an attempt that totally bombs.

Armin shrugs, perfectly permanently disinterested in dull conflicts. His eyes scrawl over Reiner, bare chest and loose plaid pajama bottoms, before jingling his keys, “You ready?”

“Oh,” Reiner huffs, looking down at himself, “Oh, no. Shit.”

“Hurry up!” Eren chastises, brushing a silky lock of brown hair behind his ear.

Armin says a sentence with your name in it that Reiner cares not to listen to, instead throwing himself into his closet for real clothes.

Something breezy but not opaque, something clean but not overdressed, something he can pretend matches the dress you sent to the group chat without seeming creepy. Though, who is he kidding?

When his thought process starts and ends with what you’ll think: it’s inherently creepy.

Eventually, he’s rushing out toward the door for his shoes in black jeans and a compression shirt which Eren immediately ‘boo’s.

“What?” Reiner hisses, lacing his sneakers.

Armin clicks his tongue, scrounging for the politest way to say his piece before realizing he simply can’t, “You’re gonna look like a douche. We can wait a little longer if you want to change.”

“Eh,” Eren dissents, “I feel like his haircut does enough of that.”

“Like I wanna hear that from you,” Reiner shoots a quick glare from Eren to Armin and stands to grab his house keys, “Alright, let’s go. Who else did you have to pick up?”

Armin says your name again, and it sounds sweeter this time now that Eren’s uninvolved.

Reiner is stuffed into the back of Armin’s clean Sedan while Eren is in the passenger’s seat. You and Connie step out together, with Armin only having to text you about his arrival since you’re not so irresponsible as to nap at 7PM. Connie locks your shared apartment while you’re popping towards the car as fast as your heels will allow.

Reiner snaps the door open for you to slide in.

“Hey, big guy!” you cheer, wrapping an arm around Reiner -- dress midnight black and tight, “Aw, we match!”

“Aww,” Connie coos, shoving into the back after you, slamming you into Reiner, before examining the blonde’s outfit, “Oh. You look… unlucky.”

“Be nice,” you bat your roommate’s shoulder and settle into your seat, letting Connie click your seatbelt in place.

“Mikasa just texted me, she and Sasha are already inside,” Eren announces as Armin takes off again.

“Seriously?” Connie groans, “I thought we were meeting outside!”

“Mikasa says it’ll be easier to get us in this way.”

“Yeah, ‘cuz bitches are lining up to go to a place called ‘cocoon’.”

You raise a brow at Connie, “They are, though. The place is really hot right now.”

“Just side with me,” he pleads, only earning a shrug and meek ‘sorry’ from you in response.

Armin shakes his head, although Reiner can see his fond smile in the rear view mirror, “If Mikasa says it’s easier this way, I’m sure she’s right.”

“Sasha’s gonna get drunk without me!” Connie fesses to his real conniption.

“Con’,” you frown, “I can get drunk with you. And Sasha’s gonna keep being drunk when we get there!”

“It’s not the same…”

Reiner watches in silence. Basking in the good humor and tunes of his friends’ prattling. Your group is not one that looks well-put, as much as he adores everyone he’s plenty ready to admit how strange the gang looks lined up. Especially on nights out.

Armin in a baby blue shirt and plain jeans because he plans on minimal socializing, though he has a black hair tie on his wrist in case Eren loses one. Eren in a sage green flannel unbuttoned over a white Tee with cargo pants that have enough pockets to hold the phone Mikasa won’t want to hang onto. Mikasa, Reiner already knows, will be in an outfit Sasha picked out for her because Sasha likes when they match.

Connie is the only clue as to what those two will be wearing because he also likes to match -- a brown shirt that says ‘I <3 MILFS’ in white and baggy pants with a leather studded belt and chains jangling off the loops. Tiny hoop earrings decorate his lobes with a simple chain necklace over his sternum. If Reiner has to guess, the only thing he’ll have in common with the couple is the color brown (Sasha loves the color brown, so it isn’t a wild assumption).

Then there’s you. Black dress. Tight dress. It tapers off at your midthigh and cups your breasts. Your hair is styled and you smell like a rose bush was dipped in sugar. On the surface: plain party attire, but Reiner can map out what’s so great about it. Short dresses have more mobility to dance, your hair looks pretty and will gain many admirers but is surface level enough you won’t have to spend an hour detangling in the morning, similar to your makeup. Captivating, but so straightforward to fix you could do it while drunk under flickering bathroom lights; and so easy to remove even Connie could do it while you’re about to pass out in bed. You balance the look he could only scratch at.

Casual yet attractive and breathable while maintaining the perfect illusion of careless, effortless sex appeal.

cocoon blinds each occupant in the car as Armin pulls into the lot, cursive lettering lit up in such a bright white it burns blue at the edges. Connie opens his side door at the same time Reiner does, both men holding it open for you to slip through.

“Ah!” you debate which side to exit, something Reiner knows he shouldn’t take as seriously as he does, before ultimately shouting at Connie, “Catch!”

You toss him your clutch and fumble for Reiner’s hand to tug you through his door.

Reiner supposes it shouldn’t matter that you picked him. Connie doesn’t seem to care, no matter how much Reiner wishes he’d at least look offended. Eren and Armin are already heading for the entrance once the Sedan is locked, paying no attention to how it's Reiner’s hand you’re holding now.

“Thanks, Reiner!” even you are shimming after the rest of the guys. Letting his hand fall astray.

“‘Thanks, Reiner,’” he sighs, eyes shut as he steps onto the curb -- pausing when a sick crunch meets his sole, “Eh, sick…” he gags at the sight of mushy greenish guts and twitching legs on his shoe. Guilt then attacks him, and he apologetically smears the insect’s remains on the concrete, “Oops…”

He’d hate to be crushed alive by some pathetic whelp of a giant and called ‘sick’.

Upon siding with his group, Reiner discovers what Mikasa meant by “easier to get you guys inside” and simultaneously admires and hates her for it. She’s perched over the bouncer’s shoulder, arms folded and eyes sharp as if she’s his boss; and for all her unbothered swagger she may as well be. As soon as she’s spotted Eren and pointed your group out, you five are waved in after a cursory ID check -- abandoning the rest of the line to swear and whine.

“I’m gonna hit the bar,” Eren announces, “Anyone up to join?”

“You just got here,” Mikasa ‘tsk’s, “Order a water too, at least.”

“Sure,” he probably won’t, even Mikasa knows that, “Anyway. Any takers?”

Armin automatically deducts himself from the conversation as the designated driver, as does Mikasa since she’ll be driving herself and Sasha home. Connie shakes his head, murmuring something about scoping the population before bouncing off with the other two.

“Can you get me- “

Eren cuts you off, “No, come with me!” his front as the group’s leader melts away as soon as he’d tried putting it up, “I hate going up to bars alone.”

Your face sours, entirely disinterested in spending your opening minutes waiting to get noticed at a clogged counter.

“I’ll go,” Reiner steps toward Eren before nodding at you, “What do you want? I’ll get it for you.”

“Nice that someone has manners,” you ‘teehee’ at Eren’s expense before placing a hand on Reiner’s shoulder as the music rises so he can hear you better. He cranes his neck lower, your lips brush the shell of his ear, “Can I get a hummingbird?”

He nods, “Should’ve known. You always start with that.”

“Ah!” you cover your mouth, eyes wide, “Am I predictable?”

He nods again, “I like it.”

“Really?” you tilt your head and he dare not nod a third time.

“It’s cute.”

Eren tugs Reiner over with a hand on his bicep, you wave the men off before spinning to find your friends in their booth.

“You sure you even need a drink?” Eren muses, “Pretty bold back there already.”

“Shut up,” Reiner doesn’t like discussing his feelings with Eren -- not because of introspective masculinity bullshit, he just gets sick when Eren has your name in his mouth, “What’re you getting?”

“No idea yet,” he shakes his head, muttering, “Nothing weird like a fucking hummingbird, though. Why does she get those?”

“I dunno. I’m craving a tequila sunrise, though.”

“Craving, huh? You sound like an alcoholic when you say it like that.”

Reiner takes the insult in good faith, because honestly he can hear it, “Yeah, whatever.”

“You think she can make a tequila sunrise?”

Reiner’s neck itches, “In a place like this, I’d hope so.”

“Hm, and what do you mean by that?” Eren shoots a quick, halfhearted glare.

Reiner sighs, “Bars with personality.”

“Ha!” as the bartender finally graces them, Eren puts in his own order (something straight and bland, quite fitting), “A hummingbird, and…” he smacks Reiner’s chest, “And a tequila sunrise? Can you do that?”

He’s trying to come off easygoing, like he’s perfectly willing to change any drink in the lineup if she finds it cumbersome.

He sounds like a total dick.

“And a water. No, two waters.”

The bartender levels him with a flat stare and nods.

“Ooooh, didn’t even ID us.”

“They ID’d at the door,” Reiner glances around the room, he’s not sure why. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for -- just that he needs to.

One of Eren’s many silver rings pierces his vision beneath the colored lights.

“I was joking,” Eren snorts suddenly, “Zeke gets dragged here by his girlfriend sometimes, and they don’t even ask for his.”

“He’s like fourty.”

“Pretty much. Thirty-two.”

“Oh my God,” Reiner grumbles, clenching his eyes and massaging the bridge of his nose.

“Hm?” with their height difference, Eren doesn’t have to crouch to look the man in his scrunched face, “What? You okay? Headache?”

“No,” shaking off the uncomfortably stiff sense of familiarity, Reiner groans, “Deja vu or something. It was weird.”

“Oh,” Eren shrugs, already grabbing for their drinks and turning away, “Okay.”

Reiner swipes the water bottles when he notices Eren struggling to juggle both in one hand. They come upon the party’s booth to find Armin and Mikasa curled into the back of the horseshoe seat, faces lit by the blonde’s phone.

“Losers,” Eren cocks a hip against the dark lacquer frame and Reiner settles a plastic bottle in front of them, “Now who's addicted to their phones?”

“Still you,” Armin cracks without pause, “You can’t cook without watching something.”

Mikasa swerves a potential squabble by announcing what her and Armin are pouring over, “‘Am I the Asshole: broke up my brother and his girlfriend because I’m in love with her,’” she glances up at the men standing across the table, “Thoughts?”

Reiner doesn’t think anything of it. Preferring to search for you in the bumping throng.

After a taught pause, Eren sits by Mikasa, “I think you found Porco’s Reddit account.”

Reiner flinches. Eren doesn’t take it back, though, even as Armin softly gasps and smacks his friend’s leg. Mikasa says nothing, but the bored roll of her eyes from the screen to Eren’s face betrays intrigue. Praying to cut this gossip rehash short, Reiner says the only possible thing that can come to mind,

“Where’s Jean?”

“Jean?” Eren scoffs, pulling out his phone, “Fucker said he’d ‘try’ to make it. He’s probably spending the night with his sushi date from last week.”

“He’s been canceling last minute a lot lately,” Reiner teases Eren’s messy, hateful nature, “You think he’s okay?”

Armin’s brows furrow, “I don’t think he’s sick.”

“I bet he’s pissed about something!” Eren snaps.

“Like what?” Mikasa frowns.

Reiner slouches into the booth, head lolling against his shoulder and poking out of the back frame to survey the floor. Sasha and Connie are dancing, but he cannot pin you in the dark crowd -- even under coral lights. His frenzied search masqueraded as not wanting your drink to grow warm before you have a single sip.

A sharp slap captures his attention, skin on hardwood. You’re radiant. Eyes sweeping from Reiner’s shocked face to the pale yellow syrup cocktail.

“That mine?”

Reiner nods, voice petrified in the bulb of his throat.

“Awesome,” you twirl around the table to slam against Reiner, shoving him deeper into the seat.

Your bare arm brushes Reiner’s, he jumps at the sudden low temperature of your skin -- offensive porous abrasions scratching him, like a dried foam scrubbing his skin raw. Chugging the zesty mix, you noisily gulp it despite the violent fizzing. Barbie pink lights dazzle off the bubbles as some spits through your lips. Syrup and elderflower rolls down your chin and onto your collarbones like mucus slobber. He’s never seen you so messy.

Slamming down the glass, you rasp for breath and thumb at the gooey lipstick print left along the rim.

“What’re we talking about?”

“Jean, he sucks,” Eren answers.

“He was supposed to come out tonight,” Reiner clarifies.

“Oooh,” you lean off the leather cushions, perching a cheek in your palm and laying your chest against the table. It gives your breasts a natural push.

Not that Reiner thinks you need it. If anything, your cleavage is fascinating even when he can’t see it: when it's hidden behind big Tees and sweatshirts. He adores your cleavage when it’s plump and shoved into everyone’s faces and he adores your cleavage when it’s hanging braless and he adores your cleavage even when it's being peppered with kisses from someone else’s lips.

So it makes sense his unbecoming stare is noticed.

Obscured are the sounds and sights of your friends -- they chirp amongst themselves like they were yippy children again. Completely unfocused on whatever adult matters are pervading Reiner’s mind. Which makes it easier for you to chide him like an exasperated nanny.

“You’re obvious, big guy,” his eyes dart to your face, shiny and glossy. You shake your head before asking the next thing to make him panic, “Do you like my tits, Reiner?”

“Uh…”

“Does it like my tits?” you cup his crotch, arm firm and purely clinical. Assessing rather than caressing. Unlike his fantasies, you’re groping with a cold, objective palm, “Do I make you feel good, Reiner?”

“I- you- uhm,” he stammers, heart punching into his throat and mouth sand dry. Not from want. From dread. He doesn’t know what to say, he can’t be sure what response will get you to handle him with more care.

“No? Not gonna get hard for me?”

Breathlessly, he whimpers, “I’m sorry.”

“After everything you did for me? You can’t just get hard?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re selfish, you know that?” the dimples in your skin smoothen, plasticine and without fault. Freezing your nonchalant expression in time with shell-like precision.

“I’m sorry,” maybe if he apologizes enough you’ll stop bringing it up.

“I thought you wanted me. Needed me. You’re just greedy.”

Loving you is fruitless, lusting after you is wrong, but to not do either feels even worse. He is ripe with affection for you, suddenly pretending otherwise is unnatural.

So he just has to keep apologizing, “I’m sorry.”

And pray you stop talking to him.

“Your friends are here, fuckface! Get up!”

Reiner scrambles out of bed at Porco’s voice. Expedite that with the fist his roommate mercilessly beats against his door and he’s left desperately unscrewing himself from his sheets.

Before he can berate the loudmouth for so rudely interrupting his rest, Porco is slamming out of their apartment and leaving both Eren and Armin huffy.

“He knows he’s friends with Zeke, right? He went to my high school graduation,” Eren grumbles.

“He probably doesn’t care,” Armin placates before turning to Reiner, “Wanna change? Like, maybe put on any clothes?”

Immediately, Eren glances down at Reiner’s groin, clad only in slim boxers, “Nice cock.”

“Shut up,” Reiner flushes, whirring around to retreat into his room and dress.

“Good view,” Eren chuckles, loud enough to ensure both blondes hear.

“Don’t embarrass him,” Armin is laughing too, though.

Reiner makes haste to finish getting ready before popping into the backseat of Armin’s Sedan. He’s sure the all black ensemble will treat him well in a dim club, but he’s similarly sure all his friends will have a ball continuing to pick at his plain shirt and jeans.

“Armin’s wearing the same thing, I don’t get what the problem is.”

“Armin has a disarming face, plus his outfit’s got color.”

Reiner opens the side door for you as you and Connie hop down the stairs of your apartment. Greeting you with a, “Is my face unsettling?”

“No!” you gasp and throw yourself into the car, curling an arm around Reiner’s shoulder, “Which of you said he was scary-looking?”

“I never said that!” Eren defends, wide-eyed at Reiner, “I didn’t say that!”

Connie barks a laugh, reaching around you to poke Reiner’s stiff jaw, “Gotta admit, man, you’re intimidating. Especially in that, you look like Eren trying to be emo in high school.”

“Whatever,” Reiner swats Connie’s hand, as loose a wave as one would to shoo a housefly. He doesn’t hate the outfit, in any case: it matches yours… somewhat.

A black dress you sent to the group chat weeks ago. One he’s tried shoving out of his head because the only thing it’d been good for was demolishing all productive thought. Rather than advance his career or make up with Porco or even grow the courage to ask you out, he’d fist his cock and picture you in that little black dress.

Upon pulling into the lot of cocoon, you slink out of Connie’s door -- nails dug into the scrawny boy’s arm for balance as your heels choke your ankles. He hisses and you apologize quietly. Reiner wishes it was him. He just as quickly wishes he wasn’t so hopeless.

“You think she knows how to make a tequila sunrise?” Eren leans against the bar, flagging the bar tender before folding his arms -- silver rings glinting beneath a mosaic of colored lights. Pinks and blues melting into dark purple on black tile.

“In a bar like this, I’d hope…”

“Hm, and what do you mean by that?”

Reiner barely blinks before saying, “Bars with personality.”

As if the response were programmed into him.

“Ha!” Eren requests his own drink, two waters, and a tequila sunrise before floundering, “And a… uhh, what did she want?”

A (what he hopes is) charming smile smatters Reiner’s face to disband the evident annoyance in the bartender’s face, “A hummingbird.”

Your classic opener on any night out.

As the woman nods and gets to work, Reiner finds his mouth opening on its own mind,

“They ID’d us at the door.”

“Huh?”

“What?”

Eren shrugs up at Reiner, “I dunno. I didn’t say anything and you just reminded me they ID’d us at the door. Are you okay, man?”

Reiner shakes his head, “Did I?”

“Yeah. It was weird,” Eren narrows seafoam eyes at the man, “Are you okay?”

He’d be better if it were you beside him instead of Eren.

“I don’t know why I said that,” he mumbles instead.

“Me neither,” the brunette billows through pursed lips as their drinks are laid out. Then sympathetically glancing back towards the woman behind the counter, “Should I get you a water, too?”

“No, I’ll live,” Reiner flashes another grin, “Don’t worry about me, I’m tough.”

“Okay…”

In the wake of his oddity, Reiner decides to sit back with Armin and Mikasa while Eren joins Sasha and Connie on the dance floor. You’re nowhere to be found and your hummingbird oozes condensation over the table, as if to coax its predator.

“If my boyfriend did that to me, I’d kill him,” Armin spits in disgust, tossing his phone screen-up on the table.

Mikasa nods, sitting up to grab her bottled water, “Sasha would cut off her own hand before doing something like that.”

Needing a distraction from his self-inflicted problems, Reiner decides to indulge in aggressively personal relationship troubles of internet strangers, “What’s going on in the Relationship Advice sub tonight?”

Armin rotates his phone and slides it across the table to where Reiner sits at the edge of their horseshoe booth, “Just read it. Unbelievable douche.”

Reiner hunches over the table, leaving his friend’s phone face-up, eyes squinting through the harsh light.

A peculiar title makes him raise a brow at the sober pair. Mikasa folds her arms and nods him along, “You haven’t gotten to the worst, yet.”

The title, in all caps read: FINGER’S GETTING FINGERED. FUCKED UP, RIGHT?

Mouth dry, Reiner wets it with his entire tequila sunrise and wishes it’d, miraculously, make him black out in the single swig. He blinks down at Armin’s phone and rubs a knuckle into his eyes to clear any mistiness. Stubbornly, the title remains the same, though it’s not what his attention is pinched by anymore. Because the body is somehow worse.

YO, POCK. YEAH. YEAH. I KNOW. IT’S FUCKED UP, ISN’T IT? YOU SHOULD DO SOMETHING. I DON’T KNOW. YEAH, I’LL BACK YOU UP. YEAH, THAT’S A GOOD IDEA. SOMEONE SHOULD TELL HER THOUGH, RIGHT? I WOULD WANT TO KNOW. ARE YOU SURE? YEAH, YEAH, I CAN DO THAT. OKAY, MAN, YOU BETTER WIN. HAHA. YOU GOT IT, POCK, GET THAT FUCKER.

I’M NOT LYING! SERIOUS. POOR THING, I KNOW, HE’S THE WORST. POCK’S NOT TAKING IT WELL, EITHER. THAT’S PROBABLY WHY PIECK ISN’T HERE, ‘CUZ SHE KNEW YOU’D SHOW. I KNOW. EREN? OH. EREN’S WITH ZEKE IN THE LIVING ROOM.

ZEKE. ZEKE! CALL THE COPS!

“Awful, right?” is whispered into his ear. Sharp chin digging into his shoulder as you bend at the waist into the booth, hands holding you up by their perch on your knees.

“Terrible,” Reiner doubles down. Sweat bullets down his face, your eyes piercing him -- irises pins in a sea of bulging white. So white it’s searing green around the edges.

Then, your nails are puncturing the solid table, knuckles burning the way they did when you held another man’s hand at a birthday party (and then later that night when you had to pull thrashing men apart). Reiner would consider it a soft mercy if you used those nails to stab him in the heart this very instant.

Chittering whispers precede a hiss parted with low, jerky hums. Your jaw clacks shut as soon as Eren saddles up beside you, smoothing a hand up your back until it rests between your shoulder blades. He smiles down at Reiner, working soothing circles into your stiff muscles without acknowledging the flimy green overtaking your bare skin.

“I’ll get her, bud. You can go home. You’ve done enough for everyone tonight.”

I’LL GET HER, BUD. YOU CAN GO HOME. YOU’VE DONE ENOUGH FOR EVERYONE TONIGHT.

Every comment under the post is the exact same, too. Except for the very top one, in lowercase as if to hide from its eye-catching peers was a mere:

reiner youre fucking insane. i dont care its your birthday i dont care if youre drunk i dont care. i dont care. youre insane. dont talk to me until you tell her. - bert

Reiner pouts up at you miserably, your thin stare unforgiving and unmoving. He feels crowded despite the fact you’re nearly half his size. Petrified, Reiner can’t even think of something to say and redirect your attention. His brain is silent except to register your face in front of his, to log your breathing.

Suddenly, you’re climbing into the seat beside him.

One leg thrown over his lap with the knee digging into his chest, effectively keeping him pinned. The other leg is spread to keep you upright in the booth, arms cage around Reiner and chest pressed obnoxiously against his; he can feel your heartbeat. Sharp. Pointed. Calm.

There’s no rage in this attack because it’s not revenge: it’s justice.

You bob left and right behind the knee pinning him, needlepoint eyes whizzing over his upper body. Searching for the express spot to cut him down as fast as possible.

Before he can so much as blink, you’re striking his pulse and your nails slice open his cheek and arm. Instinctually, his arms fly up to rip you from his neck, scratching your back and tearing your dress’ zipper down. His legs jerk beneath the table, a loud crack echoing through the club.

Nobody comes.

Everybody watches.

You tear into his throat violently, digging through skin and tissue like someone might pry your meal from you.

His arms go lax around you, a soft hug he selfishly takes to his grave.

Until there’s a shriek behind wood and vinyl, “Reiner! Reiner, get out here!”

Reiner wakes smelling the tang of raw meat. Just the scent alone enough to make his mouth water and imagine the many dishes aided by a hearty helping of meat.

Like pasta.

Pasta is a great carb-loading meal, and despite keeping himself cut with outrageously defined muscles Reiner cannot recommend pasta enough. His only gripe with the food is he cannot eat it when he’s wearing his earbuds. Something about the malleable silicone suctioned into his ears makes the squishy tearing between his molars much louder than it should be. It disgusts him until he’s unable to finish dinner.

He hears that squish now, coupling a fresh whiff of open carcass: making him so nauseous he may literally burst.

Wet, sloppy chewing and ragged swallows, intermittently severed by the sound of sharp teeth clacking and ecstatic hisses.

Fingers tickle his sides, middle and pointer parting the puckered slash down his abdomen for you to bend down and suck from. It doesn’t feel too different from giving blood at a clinic. It doesn’t feel like much at all.

Even as the fingers melt together and broaden. Even as you cradle his head with bent slabs, strapping him down via insecticine pincers, and dig into his cranium you’re quite gentle. Like a lover.

Mingling kisses with nips, you crack his skull between jagged, sawing mandibles. Grinding him up into a fine, white powder.

Reiner wakes up screaming.

Porco is knelt over him, face blown in worry and breathing erratic, “What the fuck?!”

Reiner takes a slow draw of breath, gaze bouncing around in a panic to verify he’s in his room, “What?”

“��What?! What? What’s wrong? What were you dreaming of? You were catatonic until you screamed and I came in!”

What was he dreaming of?

It’s already beginning to fade. He thinks he should let it -- best to forget and move on.

Best for Reiner, maybe, but not Porco.

Porco, who looks more terrified than Reiner feels. Porco, who forwent their passive-aggressive feuding to make sure his roommate wasn’t dying in bed. Porco, who’s nearly stradling Reiner in his scurry to wake the man.

And not best for you.

“Pock,” Reiner can’t forget, “I have something to tell you.”

.

.

.

Armin and Eren are perusing Armin’s Reddit homepage when they’re stunned to a still, only able to glance at each other as Porco shouts,

“Motherfucker!”

Porco storms out, straight past the younger men, and slamming the front door behind him after snagging his keys from their hook. Eren is first to shake himself to life, standing slowly to creep through Reiner’s door.

Reiner is pulling on a white shirt, rather steadily for a man who’d just been screamed at.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Reiner?”

“Nothing you need to worry about, Eren,” Reiner tugs on pale, baggy pants, looping a belt around his waist, before passing his friend with a short clap on the shoulder, “Alright. Let’s celebrate Zeke’s thirty-third birthday.”

And, really, it was nothing to Eren. What happened on Zeke’s thirty-second birthday was not for Eren to know yet because he still had to tell you.

Not in the Sedan, though. He can live a little longer in the dreamworld where you still like him.

He pushes the backseat door open for you as Connie straggles behind, locking your apartment. You wave excitedly and clamber in beside him with a loose side-hug.

“Hey, big guy! It’s been too long,” you squeeze. Connie slips in shutting the car door.

Connie’s scruffy buzzcut tickles the round of your shoulder as he looks over Reiner while reaching for your seatbelt (knowing you won’t click it into place yourself), “Looking good!” he huffs when you don’t make his job easier, “Dude, can you move?”

“Huh?” you follow Connie’s eyes, “Oh! Whoops!”

Eren snickers quietly at your antics before announcing to the car, “Mikasa says she and Sasha are already inside.”

“No!” Connie dramatically clutches the sides of his head, “My ‘fit doesn’t make sense without Sasha!”

“You just walked from the apartment to Armin’s car, I think you can live walking into a club without her!” you pat his back, “You’re strong, Con’.”

Reiner smiles gently at the man’s dilemma: a maroon shirt with ‘HUNTERS’ in bold white. Hardly as humiliating as Connie deems, especially since most people will overlook it in comparison to his twinkly jewelry and pants three sizes too big. Connie loves using his best friend privileges to bud into Sasha’s relationship, and everybody else loves watching what those two will do to make spectacles of their group next.

“Hide behind me!” you suggest.

“Yeah,” Armin pitches in, tone light and flowing with nothing but good intent, “She’ll catch enough attention for both of you.”

“Good thing,” Eren patches, as if the addition was needed.

“Thanks, guys,” you wax your palms down the bunched hem of your dress, kneading your thighs nervously, “I started getting second thoughts as soon as I sent the picture!”

“You look good,” Reiner says quietly, so he could pretend to have not said anything if you didn’t like the sentiment.

Thankfully, you’re sweet like pie and giggle, “Thanks, Reiner,” your eyes drift over yourself, “It feels good to dress like this again. I missed it,” you giggle and wink playfully, “Missed being scandalous.”

Tight black dress that pushes up your breasts and displays plenty of leg, the last time anyone had seen you in such a revealing piece was a year ago. Zeke’s birthday. Since then, you’d partied in more concealing shirts and skirts and Reiner hated it: knowing you were recovering from an emotional scathe. One you never would’ve heard if Reiner was a better person.

“We missed our girl,” Eren pipes from the passenger seat, earning a nod from Armin, who is turning into the club’s parking lot.

cocoon’s LED sign is blinding as the sun crashes beneath the horizon, forcing Reiner to shield his eyes with his hands as your group merges with the winding entry line.

“Oh,” you pinch Reiner’s bicep, “Happy birthday, big lug!” his surprise must be evident because you laugh blatantly, “Thought I’d forget, huh? You can’t hide from my birthday cheer, you know?”

“I don’t mind Zeke taking the attention,” Reiner promises, a lie he’s mastered telling, “I’ve never had a big birthday.”

His mother tried, but there was only so much a single parent could do let alone one on a shoestring budget.

At that, you shake your head, sympathetically patting the skin you assaulted, “You should someday. Maybe when Zeke finally mellows out at old age.”

“I don’t see that happening.”

“We’ll have to see.”

After momentary tilted silence, a man slightly bigger than Reiner in a tight black shirt approaches, waving everyone forward. Eren elbows Connie: ”See, Mikasa already being inside was a good idea, huh?”.

Bypassing the bar entirely, Mikasa herds the group from door to booth, of which she had Sasha save. Sitting beside Sasha (who's wearing a maroon shirt with ‘COUGAR’ in bold on the front, completing Connie’s outfit) is a golden ray of light in a kid’s green-and-blue party hat with circular glasses on a thin wire.

“Other birthday boy!” you hurrah, bounding past the group to wrap around Zeke, laying your head atop his.

Never one to mind your over familiar affections, Zeke brings up a hand to cup yours on his chest, “Hey, pretty girl. It’s been awhile.”

Reiner feels a hot white flare in his chest, something flagrantly upset by what he should know is common ground for the older Yaeger. What makes his anger all the worse is how he cannot pick it apart morally: Zeke is freshly single, you and Reiner aren’t together, and you’re both adults. Reiner can only chalk his jealousy up to that -- pitiful jealousy.

“I know, I know! We’re terrible,” you sigh, unlooping from Zeke to sit beside him as more people slide into the horseshoe booth (Connie resorting to extreme whining so Sasha is sandwiched between him and Mikasa), “We need to hang out more.”

“I’m old now,” Zeke ‘tsk’s, “I’ll die trying to keep up with you. Oh,” he points at Eren with raised brows, “They didn’t even ID me at the door.”

“No shit, you’re thirty-three,” Eren goes to add that his girlfriend brings him here every other weekend, but wisely realizes that would be insensitive. Since it’d be his brother’s now ex-girlfriend. To make use of his already open mouth, Eren thumbs at the bar over his shoulder, “Drinks, anybody? I’m gonna make a stop.”

Reiner knows better than to assume Eren is willing to visit by himself and nods, “I’ll go with,” he gestures to you, “Hummingbird?”

As you’re gearing up to confirm, you stand, “Actually, I’ll just go with. You guys will probably have a lot of drinks to carry back,” you poke Zeke’s shoulder, “Drink, birthday boy?”

“Margarita. With mezcal and lime. Key lime,” a chorus of grumbles escape the table, Zeke guffaws, “Not my fault it’s just better!”

“Waters for you two,” Eren shields his brother from more teasing by speaking up, glossing over Armin and Mikasa, “Sasha and Connie?”

With the punks’ orders in place, you wonder aloud what Jean and Bertholdt will want once they arrive. Only then does Reiner realize he doesn’t recall Bertholdt’s preferred beer with the same certainty he used to.

Zeke interrupts the realization, “No idea, but Pieck will get a negroni.”

“Pieck’s coming?” you mumble, sounding downright shy. You don’t want to be that person, and you doubly don’t want to ruin Zeke’s birthday by excluding one of the friends he didn’t make through his brother.

“Uh-huh,” thankfully, Zeke is a grown man who can understand nuance. He sympathizes with your hurt, yet he’s grateful you’re not the type to lay his evening to waste over that pain.

“Negroni for her, then, cool. Cool,” you turn sharply, eyes wide, “Cool. Cool. I’ll be going to the bar now.”

Eren surges to give chase, quickly put to pause by Reiner’s hand on his chest. Reiner shakes his head subtly, “I’ll get her. Spend time with your brother.”

Cramming through the swamp of bodies towards the bar, Reiner finds you chewing a thumb nail at the counter. Brows knitted towards the center of your face and an arm curled around your churning stomach. Frantic, jittery tugs to the bottom of your dress interrupt the nail nibbling. Reiner can’t take it anymore.

He calls your name over the pounding music and you jerk to attention, an uneasy smile finding your painted lips. Laying a noncommittal hand on your shoulder, Reiner follows the summon with a question, “Can we talk out back?”

Mistakenly relieved by his request, you eagerly nod and lace your hand with his. Fingers knotting and nails shoveling shallow crescents along the back of his hand, Reiner silently wrings you out to the alley behind the club. Dumpsters hide your bodies from onlookers still waiting in line, as well as filling the space with a stale rotten stench that makes his nose wrinkle.

“I have to tell you something,” he laments, no longer the paragon of tranquility he was when dealing with Porco.

“Okay.”

You’re sweet like pie, after all. You really are. He doesn’t deserve you. He thinks that’s what makes looking you in the eyes the hardest part of confessing.

Reiner deserves Porco, and Porco deserves Reiner -- they’re meant to be roommates, although neither is sure how it happened. Entitled dickhead going to bat against entitled dickhead: Porco isn’t going anywhere.

You could. And you wouldn’t be wrong to leave.

“Last year, at Zeke’s birthday, I’m- “ his knees beg to cave, but he strains anyway. Forcing himself rigid to avoid collapsing no matter how terribly he wants to, “Marcel wasn’t cheating on you with Pieck. I lied and said that to Porco so he’d say something to you. I didn’t think he’d start a fight, but I guess- I just- I should’ve… known. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Marcel didn’t do anything wrong, I was just…” he can’t believe himself, even a year later he can’t verbalize it without wanting to die, “I was jealous of him because I’m in love with you.”

Staring up at Reiner, you’re shocked into silence. Eyes wide and pupils small, dread and terror gushing into the bowl of your jaw, you’re certain you’re about to puke.

“What?”

You heard him perfectly well.

“I lied to Porco and said his girlfriend was cheating with your boyfriend, his brother,” Reiner knows you heard him, and he doesn’t know what he’s gaining by putting it simpler. He is, however, precisely aware of what he’s going to lose, “Marcel never cheated on you with Pieck. Aside from what he said about the way you dress, he was a totally fine boyfriend. I just… I just wanted you.”

A car roars by the backside of the alley, punctuating your chunky silence. Faint bass pumps through the club walls. You hug yourself as if to wall Reiner off by force. Head shaking.

“You- I can’t… oh my God, Reiner!” you whirl around and hyperventilate against the brick, muttering variations of that same sentence string to it.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

He prefers his fantasies, where you’re not a person but instead a monster that can tear his head off his body. He prefers to die.

You charge back inside, no doubt to shiver in the arms of Eren just like you did last year when Reiner started this whole thing. Part of Reiner can’t believe he’s been honest, he plucks a few arm hairs clean out just to be sure: both blessed and cursed with the truth.

He’s facing reality.

You know. Porco knows. Soon, everyone will know, and everyone will decide what to do with him. So, he lets you finish the story between hiccups and sobs while he kicks rocks into the dented, graffiti’d dumpster.

For a moment, he has the strangest urge to smoke. Reiner has never smoked before but now he’s certain he needs one. Maybe one of those particularly expensive ones in Zeke’s pocket, the brand that makes Eren’s water when his brother so much as opens the pack.

Finally stepping back inside, Reiner is surprised to see nobody preening over your crumpled, weepy form. The only indication he has that you’d even carried this burden inside is the fact you’re hugging Pieck. You’re blabbering into her ear as she giggles, close-eyed, and rubs your back. Upon separating, you squeeze her hands and she nods to whatever you’ve said last.

Then you flounce away, head flipping this way and that until you find Connie and Sasha.

Reiner apprehensively approaches the booth, where a red-faced Zeke is listening to Jean and Eren bicker. Their newest debate topic is one he cares little for since he’s certain it’ll change before the end of the night.

“Hey, birthday boy,” Reiner claps Zeke on the back, kneeling against the leather seat to ensure his friend hears, “I’m heading out.”

“Already?” Zeke scowls up at him.

Fumbling around his pockets for his phone, Reiner nods and holds up the device to shake, “Porco called. Smells gas.”

Porco should not be home -- Reiner hopes Porco isn’t home, but either way the younger Galliard’s estrangement from their group makes lying easier. Something which is also Reiner’s fault.

“Jesus,” Zeke, a recent home-renter understands the paranoia and waves Reiner off, “Hope your place doesn’t blow up.”

“Thanks, man. Happy birthday.”

Zeke doesn’t return the sentiment whatsoever. Reiner tells himself that is fine.

Pieck is beautiful: black hair shiny and alluring despite numerous fly-aways and unkempt strands. Eyebags that cradle relaxed brown eyes. Nose strong yet with an adorable bump. Voice lullaby soothing. Twelve months ago, you were envious of her, and twelve months ago you wanted to no-holds-barred box her in the middle of poor Zeke’s party. Today, however, you’re squashing her tight and murmuring apologies into her ear.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know, I just heard it was true and I didn’t even talk to you! I should’ve known better, you’re so nice and soft and I just wanna be friends…!”

A graceful little simper escapes the older woman, she accepts your nuzzling and even encourages it -- hugging you closer, “I’d like that, too. I’m not upset, I would’ve been pissed too if I were you.”

Her empathy only makes you feel worse.

“Though, I do wonder what made you come to this realization…” she muses.

“Oh, it was, uh…” you teeter off to find your answer wandering through the club towards the door.

If asked by any rational and well-meaning person, you could not tell them why you excused yourself to chase Reiner. You could not explain why you grab him by the arm and spin him around. You cannot justify why you look up at him all downtrodden and bashful and wanting.

“Why tell me now? Why not earlier?”

“Same reason I did it in the first place. I’m a coward, I can’t face you.”

Despite his stature dwarfing your own, you can easily tug Reiner away from the crowd. Fluttering from the face of the club to the bathrooms and slinking inside the unisex solo-stall. You stow Reiner away before locking yourselves inside.

An aggravated knot curls your face inwards, lips puckered like you’ve tasted something putrid.

“You could’ve just… you should’ve…”

Reiner watches you reel, you stutter and shiver and cross your arms and uncross them and tap your foot and curl a finger through your hair. He holds back from speaking or reaching out, fixed on the idea that any poking through your film could make you fly away.

“Have you told Porco?” to your question, Reiner merely nods, “And Marcel?”

“I don’t have his number, I assume Porco’s told him by now.”

“You’re okay with that?” you fold your arms again, Reiner hates himself for daring to peek at how it fluffs your chest, “You’re okay with Porco just telling Marcel?”

“I can’t be picky about this. I’m not the one I hurt.”

You’d have to be really stupid to forgive him so quickly. You would have to be dumb beyond comical relief, dumb beyond scary, dumb beyond dumb itself.

You step closer, both arms slithering up Reiner’s chest until your fingertips graze his lymph nodes.

Luckily for Reiner, you’ve never been described by partners as the sharpest tool in the shed.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you don’t know how to lie.

“Sure.” You don’t know how to read a room.

“I’m serious, okay?” you don’t know how to stand up for yourself, “This doesn’t mean anything. I’m just…”

You’re just fucking desperate. Just like Marcel and every other boyfriend before him said.

“You just want to use me for tonight,” Reiner nods, “I’m okay with that.”

Winding your arms tight around his neck, you lean onto the toe of your heels to kiss him -- nodding against his face with a muffled, “Yeah, Rei, just for tonight.”

Big hands wrap around the backs of your thighs as Reiner sighs into your lip lock, “Jump.”

You hardly get the chance to when he’s already lugging you up, one arm braced under your ass while the other cups your back and fumbles to slide your zipper down. Reiner feels you snip his bottom lip timidly earning a clutch from him until your tits are spilling out onto his chest. He’s prying your tight dress off, fingers on your bottom wrinkling up the hem of your dress to snatch your panties. You flit off his face.

Reiner swallows hard.

Red is smeared around your parted lips, soft puffs of air escaping as you stare him down. Your hair is muffed from its style, and he’s sure he’ll only make it worse.

Still holding you by your back, Reiner swings you back to undo his pants. Your nails shinny for leverage against his neck, legs kicking harshly into his sides -- like he’d drop you.

His cock twitches against you, tip weeping into the rolls of your stomach and you clench up at the sight of how deep he’ll stretch inside you. Then your eyes hone in on the way he carefully prods your hole, lip blistering between his teeth as he slowly rocks inside you. Every little hiss and huff from your throat makes him cautiously glance at you, thumb swirling wetly, apologetically around your clit.

“I know, I know,” he husks as tears prick your eyes, black mascara stains coagulating beneath your lashes, “Just squeeze me, pretty girl. I can take it.”

Your head flings back once Reiner has sunken flush. His hand on your back slides up until he’s got your shoulder to aid each sharp thrust. Amusement crawls over him when your hands fly to wrangle around his biceps, ankles locking behind his waist.

Wide, doe eyes vapidly blear over his pinching face, inspiring a sudden charge of those warm, obsessive feelings that got him in this trouble a year ago. Reiner drags his initials across your swollen clit and coos, “So pretty, pretty fucking girl. Cute and squirming on a big cock.”

Mewling at the praise, you buck against him -- whining when his tip slams a particular spot in your sucking cunt. Before you can catch a proper breath, Reiner tugs you again: ragged and gnarly mumbles leaving him as his pistoning hips quicken. Hard and fast into your guts as you squeal: pitchy and wispy and unable to breathe around the impression he’s scarring inside you.

From your hot-faced moaning and quivering muscles and tits jiggling in time with his rough plunging, Reiner’s eyes are kept busy. So busy he almost doesn’t notice when your abdomen scrunches up and your hole pulses around him. Almost.

“Fuck!” you shudder forward, arms curling around his neck to press sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw. Legs flailing behind him.

“Fuck…” Reiner echoes after you, “Cum on me, pretty baby -- cum all over me, sweet thing.”

Someone bangs on the door, followed by Zeke calling your name. Reiner feels you spasm around him tighter, something he could excuse if it weren’t for the sudden gush of slick that followed.

“You okay? You’ve been gone a while.”

You look at Reiner, blinking with the silent question of what to do.

Reiner is no use whatsoever, merely winding the hand not playing with your clit into your hair and pulling to expose your throat. Eagerly bruising the flesh with his teeth.

“Zeke,” you whimper, earning a jealous bite from Reiner, “Ah! I’m fine!”

A sick laugh cracks from the other side of the door, a sarcastic “okay” leaving the man.

“I’m fine,” you sputter, skin clapping loudly on Reiner’s and drool wetting the corner of your mouth, “I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine,” you gasp, back snapping as Reiner’s cock twitches, ringing ecstasy through you, “I’m fine! Oh!”

Wet, squelchy splashing picks up as your cum pools and dribbles out, dripping from his soaked thighs and splattering right onto the floor with every dive of his hips.

“Not inside!” you buzz in a panic as Reiner’s gravely pants and growls crescendo into huffs and moans. His rhythm thrown completely, “Not inside, Reiner!”

“Okay, baby,” he kisses your cheek and pulls out, sodden cock slapping against your tummy again, “Whatever you want.”

The ominous promise is overshadowed by the shiny glint he catches with your cum and his pre sheening beneath ugly bar bathroom fluorescents. His fist bobbing along the shaft until he’s painting your clenched gut white with thick ropes.

Reiner holds you a moment longer, and the fact his arms aren’t shaking under exhaustion nor your weight serves good promise he could go again if you desired. Unlucky for him, you don’t think you want to. You don’t think this was ever a good idea.

Undoing the lock of your legs, your heels clack against the floor. Gravity berates you quickly. Reiner’s cum begins running down the pouch of your stomach only for the man himself to swear and scoop it up with his fingers. A sticky smear is left behind, and he rushes to clean that too.

Reiner, with no better alternative, is forced to dampen paper towels from the dispenser to supplement the shower he’s sure you’re hankering for. Airy grievances leave him until you push back.

“I wanted it, Reiner.”

He’s on his knees, fingertips kissing your bare skin as he cleans you off. You look tall from his angle: you look broad and strong and beautiful. Stray hairs stick wildly like pricks. Or antenna. He nods slowly, tossing the soiled clumps away before rising to his feet (now you look small again, but no less beautiful).

“Can I zip your dress?”

“Sure.”

Your tone lacks romantics. Devoid of the warm fuzzies currently congealing Reiner’s veins.

He’s smiling, cheeks vibrant red, as he maneuvers your skewed number and shimmies your tits back into their cups before holding the back closed. His knuckles branding up your spine as he re-zips you. He holds you by the waist with his other hand, lips sugary on your forehead.

You can’t recall the last time a man was so adoring to you after sex. Even in your coldness, his devotion is sickeningly syrupy. You can hear the ‘i love you’s he’s bravely withholding.

Marcel was not the most giving man you’d ever dated. Far from the cruelest, but still not very charitable.

“Marcel hated this dress,” you mutter, staring at Reiner’s legs crowded around yours. One of his shoes poised between your heels so he can sap up as much of your space as possible.

“You’re serious?” Reiner is happy you’re speaking now, so he’s blinded as to what the best thing to say at this moment would be. Because it definitely isn’t, “Any guy would love looking at his girlfriend in this.”

“He said I looked slutty.”

“You’re pretty when you dress slutty.”

Hanging your head, you snivel against Reiner’s broad chest, “Am I?”

“All the time,” Reiner rubs your arms warmly (your skin is smooth, pliant, inoffensive), relaxing his cheek on your head, “You’re pretty in your pajamas and your work clothes. You’re pretty all the time.”

You hadn’t noticed the intensity of your stressed muscles until Reiner was massaging them out with gentle hands and a honeyed voice.

“Marcel met you in a dress like that, he can’t get mad when your entire wardrobe doesn’t change for him. Marcel can’t pin your wings,” as if to emphasize, he pinches the skin over your shoulder blades.

Flinching, you whack against his sturdy abdomen (internally groaning when you realize the giant likely didn’t even feel it), “Corny.”

“It’s true.”

Drifting back from the embrace, you turn and unlock the door before fluttering into the club’s swarm.

Reiner waits, counting down fifteen before strolling out.

“So, the apartment’s good?”

“Zeke, were you… waiting on the bathroom?”

“Something like that,” Zeke’s nosey and invasive to an absolute fault, if Reiner had to guess it’s in the man’s top three flaws, “Anyway, I take it the apartment’s good?”

“Pock called ixnay.”

“Good,” Zeke slides closer, clapping his friend on the back in a way that feels too celebratory, “Let’s drink, then!”

“You already reek.”

“And you do, too, so let’s cover that smell up with alcohol.”

Reiner feels smug despite his position on your shitlist -- after all, you let him fuck you, so that has to mean something positive, doesn’t it?

“Sure,” Reiner wraps an arm around Zeke in turn and together they manage to the bar, “Been needing a sunrise all day.”

…

“You smell fine, really,” Sasha eagerly hands over the body spray in Mikasa’s purse regardless of her insistence.

“I can smell myself,” you grimace, “I feel disgusting.”

Connie shakes his head, silver earrings blinding you when they blaze under pink bulbs, “It’s probably just the Zeke fumes. Dude permanently stinks like cigarettes.”

Admittedly, you can pick up the stench of a cigar box -- old and musty and catching your nostrils like dust, but more so is salted sweat. So you spray away, ignoring your friend’s comforts. Once you’re drenched in the addictive scent of tangerines, you return the spray and promise to buy Sasha a new one if it’s drained.

“Don’t be crazy,” she rolls her eyes and elbows you, “You didn’t drain that thing. Besides, I’d never let you buy me a new one.”

“That’s Mika’s job,” Connie nods as backup.

“Yeah,” Sasha giggles, and their glee makes you perk up, “Mika’s in charge of the expenses.”

Arms find your waist, a back stifling your own, and even though you can tell it’s Eren by the brown hair hanging into view and the rings and the cologne -- you strangely feel suffocated. He isn’t hugging hard, and he’s not the type to intentionally cause you anxiety, but you feel as though he’s got you caged.

A terrible thought, for sure, so you forcefully shove it back. You don’t want to make him uncomfortable.

“Ran off on us, I was worried,” he affectionately slurs.

“Sorry, ‘ren,” you pat his arm, “Was with Reiner.”

“Oh,” he backs away, now spinning into view with wiggling brows, “You were with Reiner?”

Sasha shoots Eren a concerned glance.

Instinctually, you try to ease everyone’s minds, “It’s not a big deal.”

Even though their assumptions are correct.

Your name is called from over your shoulder, Bertholdt and Jean are waving you over. Grateful for the segue from a rapidly curdling conversation, you bid the group adieu and race for the boys.

…

Close to midnight, designated drivers Armin, Mikasa, and Pieck are hauling the rest of the party (each person varying tipsy to slammed) to Denny’s, since the older birthday boy was starving for pancakes. Pieck quietly addresses the freckled teenager operating the floor as the drunkest of the group, Zeke, is led inside by Eren and Jean.

Meanwhile Sasha is helping you out from the Sedan, you spot Reiner staring through the glass doors. Coincidentally, also staring at Pieck. Totally unintentional. You’d have to be an idiot to get jealous.

“Hey, Reiner,” you beckon him over.

He heeds, now looking at you instead. It feels better. It feels right.

You also feel terrible, and guilty, and gross.

“Can we talk?”

Talking quickly dissolves into Reiner eating you out in the backseat of Armin’s pristine Sedan.

Maybe you can delude yourself into thinking this makes you both even. Maybe you can trick yourself into thinking this is a worthwhile apology. Maybe you can rationalize that he’s earned forgiveness this way. Maybe, maybe, maybe- maybe- maybe-

“Fuck!” you thrash up off the seat, hips jolting into Reiner’s hot mouth.

Thumbs spread you open for his lashing tongue to wiggle deeper inside you, nose nuzzling your clit and eyes shut as if he’s the one in bliss. Your thighs muff his ears as his hungry slurping continues. Worry that you could pop his skull burdens you up until Reiner tongue-fucks the concern from your ditzy head.

Shaking his face into your cunt, Reiner flays your lips with broad, soaked strokes only to hurriedly revert to precisely attacking your sensitive hole.

It isn’t supposed to be good.

He isn’t supposed to be good at this.

But he is and you’re whining like a bitch and he’s sloppily, greedily drinking you down.

“Productive talk?” Armin glances over both you and Reiner as you walk into the Denny’s, specifically where your thighs are clenched and the fabric of your little dress folds.

You let out a noncommittal hum before slipping past him and beside Connie at one end of the two tables staff was kind enough to let Jean and Eren push together.

Reiner approaches, dropping keys into Armin’s awaiting palm, “Locked up.”

Armin glares up at the man, “Did you keep your promise?”

(“Promise me, Reiner, promise me you don’t do anything to that car that will make me kill you.”

“I promise, Armin. We’re not animals.”)

Reiner suspires quick and itching to escape his friend’s deathly stare, “I’ll pay to get it cleaned.”

“Fuck you!” Armin mimics strangling Reiner, “Fuck you!”

“I know, I’m sorry…”

“You’re worse than animals! You’re parasites.”

“I’m sorry, seriously,” Reiner doesn’t like likening you to a parasite -- you’re lovelier than that, “It wasn’t full blown sex, just oral.”

That, surprisingly, does seem to calm Armin somewhat, “Which one of you was ass-out on the seats?”

“She was.”

“Okay,” Armin sighs, “Okay. I can live with that. Just - fucking - just go with me to clean it so we can use your card.”

“Done.”

“Asshole,” Armin bites as he turns. Which is fair in Reiner’s opinion.

What’s unfair, however, is the way everyone hounds you at the table.

You sit crinkled, eyes focused on your lap, “Nothing, really. Nothing happened.”

Armin bristles and Eren scoffs. Zeke downright laughs. Reiner sits across from you and tells them to mind themselves.

“We could all see it coming!” Sasha jeers, beaming over at you full of mirth and sunshine and good intent, “Reiner’s been in love with you since you met!”

Bertholdt flinches at the call, spiking a glare the blonde’s way.

“About time you moved on from Marcel,” Connie nods in agreement, the past year lifting from his shoulders like a sack of bricks. As the one to have held and soothed you in the aftermath of Marcel’s apparent cheating (and subsequently Porco and Marcel’s bloody brawl), he couldn’t be happier to hear you’re back out there, “That guy sucked.”

“He was…” okay. He was okay. He was okay. But Reiner’s…

Your eyes dart up to Reiner.

Reiner’s a liar. His actions inherently manipulative. No matter how terribly Marcel’s words could sometimes make you feel, he was a faithful boyfriend. Reiner’s crush could potentially be obsessive.

“He sucked,” Pieck reaffirms, smiling at you warmly.

You don’t know what to do with Reiner.

Except to grab his hand over the table and nod, “Yeah, he sucks.”

Reiner fondly brushes a thumb over your knuckles. Cheeks rosy.

Bertholdt is squeezing his fist so tight there’s blood crusting beneath his nails.

When everyone’s belly is full and your large party is spilling out of the Denny’s, Connie nudges your side. Whispering while nodding towards Reiner, “You coming home? Or…”

“Reiner and I need to talk some more.”

(Reiner and Bertholdt are preoccupied with conversation.

“Are you serious?”

“I told her. She knows.”

“You’re fucked up,” Bertholdt has half a mind to shout at you from across the barren parking lot to confirm if Reiner’s claim is true.

“You weren’t part of it.”

“You told me what you did! That made me part of it…” Bertholdt chides heatedly, grinding the heel of his palms into straining eyes, “She actually knows?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Okay…” Bertholdt rakes through mussed black hair and blinks weary eyes, “Then I’m sorry for avoiding you, I just… You were insane for that.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“We’re good. You didn’t do anything wrong.”)

“Yeahhh,” Connie drags out, elbowing you in dramatics, cheering, “Get it, girl!”

You shrug, Reiner suddenly at your side and directing you towards Armin’s defaced Sedan by his grip on your hand, “Sure.”

Connie laughs because he assumes you’re being uncharacteristically shy.

Maybe he had a point, though, because as soon as you’re in Reiner’s apartment, you’re on him.

You don’t want to talk. You don’t want him to explain himself (honestly, you don’t know what more he could say). You just want him to make you forget he ever opened his fucking mouth.

“After this,” you gasp into his mouth, nails sharp in his back, “Make me a drink.”

“What kind?” he entertains, pulling your hips to roll against his.

“Something sweet, like nectar. But I want it strong.”

“Whatever you want, baby.”

…

Waking the next morning with a pounding headache and sore hips, you trip from Reiner’s earthy sheets and lazily haul on his white shirt from last night as well as his boxers before quivering into the kitchenette. With an eye closed, you barely find the dark rum from your many guava nectar cocktails before shooting it. Nursing a hangover with more alcohol: always works.

A scoff fishes your attention, Porco sitting at the couch with a steaming mug on the table. No coaster, like a beast.

“You can have the fucking coffee.”

“Thanks…”

Saying Porco watches you fix yourself a cup of coffee would be too lax, he moreso studies you. How you gingerly wait for approval before opening his fridge for creamer and cabinet for sugar. How you stir the sweeteners into your mug. How you don’t bother with a test-sip before tucking everything away.

You haven’t spoken with Porco since you arrived at Zeke’s house twelve months ago -- an awkward hello between two people that never clicked. But you were dating his brother at the time, so you couldn’t just avoid him.

Now, you’re crawling out of his roommate’s bed, which (as expected) is already providing less opportunity to avoid him.

“Did he talk to you about last year?”

A lie can’t even form on your tongue, “Yeah.”

Porco’s brows raise in shock, pointing at you, then the closed door to Reiner’s room, “And still?”

“Yeah.”

As if sensing the moldy turn of conversation, Reiner makes his appearance. He scratches his bare chest and yawns, mumbling gratitude to Porco for making coffee. All awareness of their conversation yesterday seems unapparent on the blonde now, and it may as well be. Reiner remembers yesterday in full clarity, meaning he also remembers why telling Porco the truth was so easy.

Porco wasn’t going anywhere.

“So, what?” Porco’s question is open to both of you, but his eyes needle you specifically, “You two dating now?”

Reiner gives pause. He, too, studies you. He remembers why telling you the truth was so difficult.

You feel a burning in the back of your eyes, you blink it away and find trepidation swelling your throat shut. You clear the blockage with a swig of scorching coffee before answering, “Yeah.”

When that feels too bland, you take another swig and try again:

“Yeah. We’re dating.”

Reiner wasn’t expecting you not to go anywhere, either.

[totallyradicalmucky]

I rewrote the entirety of ATHF Plantasm at midnight in my notes app and now my discord is making me post it. So here it is completely unedited.

Rewritten Plantasm

Same concept of split up team

Frylock and Shake talk a couple times. Shake is having nightmares about freyja and plants and Frylock assumes it’s about his fuck up with her again- Meatwad is missing.

Shake stumbles upon the plants displaying life signs earlier than the ginger does because he went to go harvest Meatwad (who was chewed up into little bits by dogs and then comically found in the plant food)

They both try and tell Frylock who isn’t having none of it.

Meatwad has Freyja’s faceplate or something inside him but is too congested to cough it up. Shake beats him to try and get it out but it doesn’t work

Carl has the rest of her and she’s creepy asl- he doesn’t mind and doesn’t even do anything explicit to her at the moment. The robot actually getting hacked and the red LED’s changing to a neon green color and saying something ominous before it cuts back to Frylock making some kind of power suit for the short Elon musk dude to wear and make himself taller.

They bicker going back and forth, Shake and Meatwad are seen banging on the windows in the background- the ginger laughing at him before Frylock eventually has a break to go outside and whisper yell at them. To which they forget why they were so adamant about getting him out. Meatwad mumbles something about plants, maybe dogs, robot ladies, the moon. Shake harps on about Freja- but Frylock stops him when he mentions the plants, the fries indeed noticing the bigass greenhouse he’d never been inside..somehow.

The ginger lets himself into the conversation and talks about it for a bit, nobody gives af. In fact they cut him off halfway and tell him that. The ginger tells them all to shut the fuck up as they go back inside, to which the little musk guy is dead and covered in roots. They all freak out. The ginger guy tries to talk to the plants but the plants proceed to go up inside him and turn him into the tree guy that isn’t outwardly sentient, unless it’s funny. The teens book it, but not before Shake’s greedy ass nabs the power suit.

They book it all the way to carls place because of course they do. Frylock yelling at Shake that the power suit isn’t even done yet. Carl telling them to go away- except he doesn’t even know what’s going on. They go in anyways. The mooninites have hacked into the old robot of freja (big lame reveal). Shake (now in the power suit that’s hardly working and much too small, but still kinda sexy) didn’t notice this immediately and had gone up to hug and or kiss the robotic woman- who responded in a duo of male voices. Shake didn’t care actually.

Carl laughed. Frylock was gay. Meatwad was meat.

They explained the plant thing and somehow came to the conclusion of just jackassing it would work. The mooninites were just going to prank Carl but halfway through they were like man this is pretty fun. Frylock does a “we’re going to need everyone we can get for this.” Moment and the only other person to show up is Willie Nelson who peeks out of the attic and slowly walks down.

Anyways they get their shit rocked by some trees and take the big weird spaceship with everything on it into space. The plutonians are there- they’re like seen. In fact Carl signs help me to them and those mfs blast off as soon as they see what’s going on in the ship. Shake has a badass moment.

Alien reference. One emotional moment where they get back together. Willie Nelson hard carries most likely. They kill the thing? No not really they just dump it in the Arctic Ocean after like 20 minutes of fighting and watch it freeze to death while flying above the water.

The ending is them going home in the ship and then in their house like nothing happened.

Shake gets diagnosed with some disease in the after credits scene due to the suit with Frylock being like “I fucking told you so” and Shake doesn’t bother to take it off even though he looks like a wrinkly ballsack

[maoam]

Ramblings stemming from frustration with this fandom sometimes. ( Naruto. )

I know Naruto fandom has always been a tad toxic ever since it started becoming popular and such, but something about these newer fans who are so comfortable with d3ath threats, body shaming, sa threats, and d0xxing other people for the sake of a character. Fandom discourse is truly never that serious and the fact that they’ve become so obsessed with “ratioing” or “owning” other people that they’re willing to say absolutely vile things all for what… some likes? Validation from other gross people?

And then for these people to still say they’re the “good part of the fandom” or “the sane part”. It’s almost narcissistic for lack of a better word at the moment. ( not diagnosing anyone or speaking as if I’m some sort of mental health expert. Just can’t think of another word right now because of the headache this phenomenon is causing me as it is becoming much too common. )

They have this obsession with demonizing “the other side.” To the point of making false claims, which is insane. Or maybe they actually believe them? I can’t tell. They just spread whatever makes them feel good about what they like and don’t care about the source.

This is mainly a lame annoyed rant about the Hinata fanbase which have become somehow even worse within the past few days with their weird obsession with trying to get the Boruto artist (I think he works for sp? Unsure as he says most of his art is fanart but he made a like two or three official pieces that were on the official boruto/naruto page.) fired and sending him death threats for I guess just not drawing Hinata as much as they want? Like to the point where they were literally saying she was being “oppressed and bullied” by this artists. It was insane to see in person because you really would like to believe people WOULDNT compare a character not being drawn in a way they approve of to the oppression the people of Palestine are facing but hey, I suppose it’s a competition now to see how much of a bad person you can be for the sake of a character.

Also I know this is not just an issue in the hinata fandom, although the recent need to fetishize how “Asian Hinata is compared to that white girl sakura.” Is irking me a lot more than what other fandoms have done as of recent that I’m aware of. The Sakus seem to be their usual level of delusion and crappy attitude. Which is easy to ignore for me.

Does it sound like I’m making stuff up at this point? Because as I’m writing this I’m seeing just how insane this really is. This *shouldn’t* be real. This *shouldn’t* be things people say without shame. And yet, people just throw their morals for… what, internet points? The self validation that they defended to their favorite character? Who knows.

You might not even read this, I wouldn’t blame you lol. Just me being annoyed with how comfortable people within the naruto fandom have become so comfortable with being bad people.

My only real question is have you noticed an increase of toxicity within the fandom? Do you think this behavior has gotten worse with the ending of Naruto and beginning of Boruto?

I kinda get what you mean. I remember even before the manga ended there was apparently aggressive fights between Narusaku/Naruhina shippers, like the body shaming towards the other ship's girl and so on. And SS also were aggressive. But nowadays it indeed seems worse. I'm not sure if it's because we have new big platforms? Twitter and Tiktok I mean, both have really cancerous fandom spaces.

SS/NH harass official staff all the time, as well as other parts of the fandom. And then they act like victims because some people think Sakura and Hinata are shitty characters lol. Meanwhile they treat real people like shit. I think it might be because everyone makes fun of their ships/girls all the time, because it's so easy, so they become even crazier in trying to compensate, they try to harass the staff for more content for their ship, to get back at the people who say their ships suck. Also because so many popular content creators keep making content on Naruto and Sasuke being gay and Sakura/Hinata being their beards it's also humiliating to them.

Of course, they also need to fight which girl is the best girl. Which girl is less of a single mother for example. XD

"Or maybe they actually believe them?" Considering how many SS have convinced themselves that some moments that happened between Naruto and Sasuke actually happened between Sasuke and Sakura, I can believe them being that delusional.

"Does it sound like I’m making stuff up at this point?" No because I have witnessed it myself, plenty Sakura and Hinata stans on twitter have that toxic "bad bitch" attitude that they think makes them queens or whatever, they harass people and are extremely aggressive and think female character doing the bare minimun = queen behaviour. It comes off as very childish and narcissistic. No wonder Sakura and Hinata as characters appeal to them.

[skye707]

Sorry if this one is a little bit personal, but how would the Riddlers react to you coming out as autistic? I was diagnosed when I was really young and everytime I've told people, I've been immediately socially ostracized, no matter how hard I try, so I kind of want some comfort. Also thank you and I hope you have a nice day!!

I'm sorry to hear that people have been lame to you, but just know that in this town (e.g. my blog) we show love to all people 💙

Unburied - That's cool, he says kind of sing-songishly. Don't be fooled, he really is intrigued by this development in your character. To him, it's just something that makes you that much more interesting, more of a puzzle to solve.

ZY - Really? Oh, that's going to make this new friendship very stimulating. He likes having to work for an answer. Too often, people are dangerously easy to read. But you? He's going to take his time trying to figure out every angle of you, for better or worse.

Dano - Hm, thank you for telling him. He thought he could sense some kind of special connection between two people with similar experiences. btw, if you choose to tell him about your past trouble with social groups, he has immediately taken it upon himself to relieve your anxiety whenever possible. He will now stick up for you till the end.

YJ - Oh, you are? He didn't see that coming. I MEAN! It's fine that you are! He likes you better since you are! NO! That's not what he meant either!!- He just thinks it's cool to be around someone who sees the world a different way. Maybe someone who will see him a different way? cries

Gotham - Ah, I see, very interesting. Filing that one away in the "Things I Know About My Friends" cabinet. Like with most things, he wants to hear everything you can tell him, about your experiences, tendencies, etc.

BTAA - Finally! Someone who isn't just going to hit him with the same dumb questions (Why riddles? How'd you come up with your name? What's your show size?). He's gotten so bored with the general population. He welcomes your presence with open arms! Please! For the love of everything evil, say something that will make him have to think about an answer!!

Arkham - Join the club! I mean, he was never diagnosed (blame that on a very poor childhood), but I think most can agree that there are some indicators in his general behavior. He also finds difficulty in engaging in social interactions, so that's something you two can bond over. Right after you hand him that wrench and make it snappy.

BTAS - At first, it's not something he thinks about too much. Just another aspect of your character to consider. But then he realizes that you're different and in a very delightful way. You see his puzzles differently. Finish his games in a different way. Look at things from vibrantly new angles. And suddenly, he wants you around all the time when he's up to his newest scheme.

Telltale - Interesting, and what does that mean? He's not trying to be an asshole (even if it looks and sounds that way). He wants to hear from your mouth what that means for you. In his own strange and standoffish way, he's trying to get to know you better. Whether that's for your or his benefit is yet to be seen, but ya know.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

✉️ ✉️ ✉️ ✉️ ✉️ ✉️

📚📚📚📚📚📚📚

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Hi!!!

Here are some fresh sentences for ya.

18 for ✉️:

---

Eddie laughs fondly at this one. That had been kind of a crazy, exciting call. And he had thought of Chris the whole time, wanting to tell him about it. He still could, he supposes. But he’s glad to know Buck did, when it happened. Eddie doesn’t know why he hasn’t tried to tell him about it. Maybe he’s been scared to make it sound like he had any fun at all while Chris was away. 

The thing is, he did, though. Not that it wouldn’t have been better if Chris was there. It would have been. But the call was crazy and kind of fun in its uniqueness. The hike at Salton Sea that Buck had arranged was fun, too. And there were more days where Buck dragged him to something to get his mind of Chris and Kim and Marisol and every other fucked up thing going through his head, only for him to come away feeling something resembling happiness. 

Take, for example, the next post card. Eddie knows why Buck picked it the moment he sees the sunset and palm trees front and the font reading Malibu, California, in the top corner. Buck had dragged him to Malibu during a four-off, made them stay in an AirBNB, despite how close it was to home, and somehow convinced him to spend a weekend falling off a surfboard, drinking beer, and getting badly sunburnt on his shoulders. It was a fantastic weekend. Eddie can’t even feel guilty about how much he’d enjoyed it. 

---

21 for 📚:

---

Like life, sometimes it makes it easier if Ravi reflects back on cancer with a textbook view of his experience. When people ask him how he can be so optimistic or easygoing about the whole thing, he doesn’t tell them this is the trick. He always gives a lame excuse about the power of a good attitude.

The real power is in shutting the cover on it.

He wrote about it in his college entrance essays with this same scholarly detachment. It wasn’t hard. He has always been a strong writer. A symptom of so many years without much else to do than read, write, and listen to others talk, whether in person or on TV. 

Neuroblastoma - a type of cancer that forms in certain types of nerve tissue. It is the third most common type of cancer in children, presenting in about one in seven thousand. Estimates say it is responsible for about fifteen percent of cancer related deaths in children. 

It’s usually detected before kids turn five, especially when it's on the spine or in the stomach. Ravi’s was in his chest. When he had difficulty breathing, he was diagnosed with asthma. He was almost eight by the time they figured it out. 

When Ravi wrote about that part of it all in his college essay, he turned it into a commentary piece on the dangers of misdiagnosis. After all, it’s what led his tumor to grow to a point that made surgery and treatment more complicated, where he might have had a far easier go of it at four or five. He wrote about that and it made him seem wise and reflective, someone whose personal experiences as a child might make him a vigilant adult. He didn’t whine and complain about how years of frailty dismissed as something that shouldn’t require more than a puffer earned him a reputation for weakness, how he was excluded and smaller than the other boys his age, including his little brother. He didn’t recount being bullied, and he certainly never named the ringleader of those bullies. Anil. 

---

21 for 🩸:

---

“I can order something for myself,” Buck tells him. “Maybe you could go home for a while.”

“Go home?” Tommy asks. “Is someone else stopping by to make sure you’re okay?”

“I’m okay.” Buck says. 

Tommy furrows his brows. “I’m not sure that you are.”

“Listen, I-I just need to be alone for a while.” Buck explains. “I need to call Christopher.”

“You can’t call Christopher with someone in the apartment to keep an eye on you?” Tommy asks skeptically. 

“No.” Buck replies.

“Well, why not?”

“Because it’s a family thing!” Buck snaps.  Tommy’s expression stiffens. Buck immediately feels like an ass.

[shit-talk-turner]

every single person possesses some narcissistic traits and could even be described as narcissistic but this doesn’t mean they are a narcissist as in a person diagnosed with narcissistic personality disorder; I absolutely don’t think Alex is a covert narcissist (nor do I believe we should really speculate) but he acts kinda lame sometimes — he’s too much in his head and seems to put high emphasis on his image and hasn’t got a developed sense of self which has started to kinda rub me the wrong way the more I started noticing it when I became an adult myself — like dude, grow the fuck up; you know what I mean?//

That's why I said I didn't agree with T's implication and I agree with you that many people possess Narcissistic traits without actually being one. I think Alex has too much self awareness to be one, he just makes questionable choices as we all do. I think deep down he does know who he is but he 'fights' it because he cannot accept not being the way he might want to be and/or that people might expect him to be a certain way and he's trying not to be a disappointment. I think many of his issues (from what we speculate on) could potentially be resolved and/or improve if he worked on his self esteem/self worth but that's not an easy fix, it's like trying to escape an Labyrinth.

^

[syasyajcllm]

Aaaand... Here's some of my REALLY old TF2 art from 2017 and 2018. Maybe someone will recognise me from it. (Doubt it xD)

cw: a lot of tearjerker words, mentall issues and kinda mentions of violence (?)

I’ve always wondered how cyclical history is. Six years has passed and I had returned to the most grotesque, both silly and peculiary wise fandom in my entire life (dare I say it). Back then, I was a socially awkward minor clinging to any chance to go deeper into the pointless escapism. Anyways, I was stuck in a frustration about having to set my career preferences already. It went so bad that after six (maybe seven??? i actually lost count) hospitalisations my doctor diagnosed me with paranoid schizophrenia. Nevertheless, slowly but surely, things were getting better. I got therapy and found out that I was misdiagnosed which is sadly not uncommon in Russia. I tried out so many medications only to find out that all of these were pointless. What a lame. Then, I tried to go back in time and recover my memories which was disrupted because of treatment I didn't even need. And I was pleasantly surprised how much tender teenage love I put into every art, every shape on the pic dedicated to TF2.

Back now, I recall how much emotions, communication and happiness this fandom gave me. And I'm so glad that it was not abandoned and forgotten like an average old (but gold) game and comics. By the way, my OC blonde soldier with facial scars went through this with me and I still adore him as well as my other 9 mercenaries. :) His name is James Tiberius Rourke and someday I'll make a post about him and other in those motley crew.

Back to the theme. I'm 21 now and I want to try almost the same experience but from another angle. I never needed to self-reproach about who am I, I never needed to put myself onto pressure, I just need to have fun and look at dirty rude and partially illiterate gravel war pigs and constantly say "aww, they're so cute when hysterically smiling after tearing someone's spine apart 🥺". Unlike in the past, now I have a measured personal life, a large circle of acquaintances and friends and a lot of prospects in the future. Six years in one fandom is actually my record and by the active return I felt refreshed. I hope my love to the game, the comic and its community will last forever.

[krispiecake]

hiii tell me about your show pls!!!

1) i love you. we should kiss

2) before i get into this because im #scared ppl will make fun of me, I’m aware that my show is a teen drama and deserves criticism in some areas, i am actually very interested in having long conversations about this criticism bc i think that its genuinely interesting and i have a lot of thoughts about how some themes such as (and especially) class could/should be handled going forward in the final season. However, i also think that it is a very well made show and also very well written (99% of the time lol) and explores very interesting lgbt+ themes and is the first show in a while that ive seen that portrays first/new/young lgbt relationships really well. That is my disclaimer.

3) so. its called young royals on netflix. and its my favourite thing in the entire world. Its a swedish show centred around the prince of Sweden, Wilhelm (diagnosed autistic by me. bc i said so.) Key facts about him are: anxiety disorder, lame, sometimes I wish i could smack him upside the head but with love. Wilhelm is sent to a private boarding school after getting into a very public fight in order to punish/straighten him out (pun intended). At this boarding school we are introduced to Simon (my fave character), who is a non boarder/scholarship student along with his sister. When we meet Simon for the first time its when he is singing a solo in the choir for the prince’s welcome ceremony/celebration thing. During this, Wilhelm basically um. falls in love. Well maybe not love but the boy is down BAD and it’s embarrassing for him. Key facts about Simon: i love him, has never done anything wrong ever, I love him. While Simon’s main ‘role’ as it were is love interest, I believe that the show does a fairly good job and creating depth for him as a character, providing a lot of context and information about him as an individual and as part of a relationship. He has his own plot lines and scenes completely separate to Wilhelm. HOWEVER I would also like this to be explored further in the 3rd season, and I hope we see a more emotional side to him too, because while we do see him express both positive and negative emotions, I still feel like he holds the especially negative ones back and away from other characters like Wilhelm - which is in character, however I personally would like to. see him cry or something idk because he deserves a breakdown. like a proper one with shouting and throwing things.

ANYWAY. We get to see their relationship grow over the episodes and honestly there is a little bit of flip flopping from Wilhelm, bc while Simon is confident in his sexuality, its implied that this is the first time Wilhelm has ever really acknowledged his attraction to the same gender, meaning we watch him learn how to (sort of) accept himself and be comfortable in liking Simon. PERSONALLY I think the way this is portrayed is quite authentic and at least somewhat similar to my own experience in coming to terms with being a lesbian specifically (although i never rlly got to kiss any girls about it so. that sucks). I think a really good example of this is their first kiss scene at the end of s1 ep 2, where we see Wilhelm making the first move when he initiates handholding (im aware of how juvenile the sentence sounds i just couldnt think of another way to put it lol) as they are watching a movie (its movie night so the two main dorms are all present, Forest Ridge (boys) and Manor House (girls). They have a cute little handholding moment until Wilhelm becomes flustered/anxious over people noticing and runs out of the room. Simon follows after a moment and this is when we get the first kiss. Simon is the one to initiate it the first two times and Wilhelm just kind of 🧍. He’s not good at this yet okay. After the second kiss, shocked back to reality by a noise from the movie down the hall, Wilhelm starts with ‘I’m sorry I’m not-‘ and Simon starts to leave, obviously sensing rejection. However, rejection does not come because Wilhelm grabs his arm and pulls him back. He’s clearly very anxious about the whole situation and running through his head is what I assume to be a million different thoughts of ‘am i allowed to want this? is this okay? do i want this? what will my mother say? this would be national news. What would my brother say? am i allowed? i dont think this is allowed.’ Simon does not say anything, allowing Wilhelm to take the time he needs to organise a coherent thought. And despite his anxiety, despite every thought in his head, he pulls Simon closer by his shirt and this time, Wilhelm is the one that kisses him.

I like this scene bc 1) its cute, like rlly cute 2) as I said i think this is a good example of the whole ‘coming to terms with it’ aspect because I remember that anxiety, I remember those ‘what would my mother think?’ thoughts and most importantly, I remember my lesbianism (or in Wilhelm’s case, his queerness and attraction to Simon) winning. I remember the way that once it popped into my head that ‘hey, you might be a lesbian’ it literally never left until i sat up one day and confronted it. And I think that this is a really sweet and probably true to life for some people way of showing this on screen.

Now. I actually have so much more to say about this show Like i could talk/type for HOURS. about it but I won’t. Know that there are so many details about this show and the casting choices and the writing and directing and acting choices that i am OBSESSED with throughout BOTH seasons. All that i typed literally only got us through 2 episodes and i didnt even talk about the other important bits. I really cannot over emphasise enough how much there is to this show. Anyway, I’m gonna leave it there though, but feel free to ask questions/for my opinion on any aspect of it. I will say if you havent watched it and somehow this has convinced you to do so, there are a few triggering subjects such as drug + alcohol addiction/misuse, death and grief, and MASSIVELY child exploitation material from season 1 ep 4 onwards - this is because a, if not THE, major plot point/conflict in the show is that a ‘sex tape’ (as it’s referred to sometimes) is filmed of Wilhelm and Simon (both 16yrs old in the show) without their knowledge or consent, and is then leaked to the public. I have some personal grievances about how this is handled in the show, however, I also dont think its handled ‘badly’, as the way the characters handle it is part of the plot and is ultimately part of what the show is criticising. If you want me to explain this further I can do as well, as i know this subject can obviously be very triggering and its best to know what youre getting into to decide if this show is right for you.

[alangdorf]

Hi! This is a follow-up post to my kingdom hearts fic Ten Minutes Too Late that I’ve been meaning to make for several years at this point. Under the cut will be some rambling about why I stopped writing it (tl;dr: ADHD, predictably) and then I’ll explain what my future plans for the fic & its universe were and post what stuff I did have written up. I’m totally fine with it if anyone happens to want to use my ideas for their own work btw, I probably won’t be getting around to finishing it anytime soon if ever.

Oh also! BBS Tangled AU writeup is here; I won’t bother with the few snippets of writing I did cause they were all very short false starts.

(Note: I will probably not be making a similar post for my old Undertale au. It’s been too long for me to remember much and I don’t wanna go find my notes, also it’s just not that interesting. The main secret [the Frisk in the comic was from Jerky’s timeline] was guessed immediately anyways.)

The Writing Issue

Guh. So I’ve always been really bad at the act of writing. Results are usually decent, but trying to get myself to write anything that my brain isn’t just coming up with on its own is like pulling teeth. (Honestly it should’ve been a major indicator of my ADHD growing up, but I was the guinea pig oldest child and didn’t get diagnosed ‘til I got to college and the additional time management responsibilities - and writing assignments - pushed things into unmanageable territory.) I’m also an incorrigible perfectionist and rarely manage to force myself to push out first draft material I’m not happy with. Unfortunately this also applies to writing I do for fun, so I have to really really really be inspired to be able to write and even then it’s still often a struggle.

Since I have very little practice with writing, I also just have a large gap between my skill level and my taste, and overall I’m very conscious of issues in my past writing - jokes that are lame because I couldn’t think of anything funny, inconsistent characterizations, over-reliance on plot contrivances (I’m largely resistant to being bothered by contrivances but like it’s a LOT), too much angst and not enough other stuff to balance it out because the angst is all I can focus on, trying to tackle things I don’t have enough personal experience and/or knowledge of and/or tact to handle in a way I find satisfactory, etcetera. I always like my stuff quite a lot when I’m actually rereading it, but the bad bits are what stick in my mind, so it’s hard to even think about my writing without feeling really embarrassed (and meowing). Which makes it really hard to want to focus on writing more of TMTL. Though I also just haven’t been hyperfixating on KH in several years. Maybe I’ll finish my four blaseball wips someday but the odds aren’t looking good…

TMTL Plans

Anyway, hmm, where to start… well, chapter 16 was gonna be a flashback to what happened to Ven & Vani at the start of KH1, namely that they went to the play island while Ansem was there, Ven lost his heart in a Neoshadow attack, and then Vani’s coerced into being a henchman again since Ven’s basically a hostage. He does not have a fun time with that, but he does train Riku (and yes he was the mystery person they saw at Hollow Bastion). I wrote out that chapter but I was a little dissatisfied with it. I guess at the end of this I’ll post all my snippets.

I had a whole plan for all three kids’ paths through KH1 but it was probably wayyy too overambitious to try and write the whole thing given I was never that interested in the kids or in the Disney worlds. To skip to the important bits at the end (also I don’t entirely understand my notes for the rest), Kairi gets to Hollow Bastion before Sora does and Vani ends up removing her heart (it goes to Sora) in a last-ditch effort to stop Ansem’s plan and also keep her safe-ish; in retaliation Ansem sends him to the Realm of Darkness. To be honest this was mostly just to set up Naminé’s continued existence and to get Aqua out of the RoD early.

The end of KH1 goes about as normal except Kairi tags along (also Ven wakes up but doesn’t tag along). Aqua finds Vanitas and Vanitas finds Riku and Vani portals them all out cause I guess he can do that. Then things get a little interesting: since Ven was not involved in the events of Birth by Sleep, Aqua never turned the Land of Departure into Castle Oblivion, so the events of Chain of Memories just kinda don’t happen. Naminé still pops up in the LoD, but Aqua has just returned home and takes her in. For a while. The org comes for her eventually.

The replicas also happen, but under slightly different circumstances; the org occupies part of Hollow Bastion in secret before the Restoration Committee really gets everything under control and they use several stored heart scans: Riku’s (from during kh1) to make Repliku, and, just to see what would happen, they mashed up “Princess of Heart” Kairi’s (from pre-fall of Radiant Garden) and “What I am is darkness” Vanitas’ (from during kh1) to make Xion. (That’s why I draw her with pink eyes in this au, it’s purple + red. Also the average of 4 and 26 is 15, it’s perfect) I dunno what effect them being pure light + pure darkness would have, if any. They’d probably just be a mostly regular keyblade wielder but that’s still valuable to the org.

And with Chain of Memories not happening (also Roxas still exists like normal), Axel gets four kids! I didn’t have any other plans for kh2 and beyond. Eventually Xion gets adopted into Kairi & Vanitas’ family, Roxas into Sora & Ven’s, and Namine is Aqua’s daughter and/or little sister. Also Vanqua happens but I’m not posting most of the stuff I had written for that; it was weird cause I’m not good at writing romance.

I was also very interested in writing interstitials for chapter 3, more about Vanitas and Kairi’s time in Radiant Garden and involving more of the people living there (oh man I remember I had this whole big idea about Cloud and Sephiroth being a really weird heart experiment done by apprentice Nort half-remembering the whole Ven & Vani thing), and also slice of life stuff about everyone living on Destiny islands in the long timeskip between chapter 7(?) and the start of kh1. I’ll put that list of ideas in the snippets section.

The Leftovers

The Chart(TM)

Interstitial ideas list

Ienzo sometimes hangs out with Kairi because Kids; Vanitas does NOT trust him bcuz he is an apprentice and usually brings the wrath of Even with him

Yes Braig is blackmailing Vanitas for babysitting purposes, but he’s also actively protecting him from apprentice Nort?????

Untitled Unversed Game is still so good [Note: this was basically just Unversed wreaking minor havoc in town while Vani’s sick]

All the radiant garden peeps may have had more important stuff going on at the time but they do remember the local cryptid Untitled Goose Game-ing it up for nearly a year and while they may never have seen his face or talked to him, they recognize the Unversed and they’re just like???? The cryptid’s back? And he was just a weird homeless kid the whole time? And Cid’s like yeah duh, I’ve been telling you kids that for the past decade

ALSO I only just had this idea but considering Vanitas got badly enough injured by Aqua as to be put fairly solidly out of commission for a few months, he probably didn’t manage to get entirely off the street before passing out for a while; I dunno much about ffvii Cid, but  I do get the vibe that he’d be the type to pick up strays and then gripe about it constantly while picking up some more, so? You know where I’m going with this. Although this is Vanitas fresh offa bbs and four years with Xehanort prior so he does not trust anyone further than he can throw them. Also he probably doesn’t know that Xehanort got amnesia yet, so there’s that too.

Kairi keyblade training??

Oh yeah by the way Kairi and Vanitas? You have three older sisters now who are absolutely thrilled to have surprise little siblings

If he fits he sits; iF HE FITS HE SITS

Kairi settles in nicely (by repressing her trauma) but hoo boy VANITAS is gonna be INTERESTING

DON’T FORGET THE UNVERSED BTW

Also Ven settling in with Hikari and Sora and becoming a real boy

Vanitas angst but that’s a given

Riku?? Riku???????

Ok did Vanitas actually talk through his trauma during therapy or did he just get assistance wrt dealing with trauma & emotions? Either way I think said therapist is extremely in over their head

Chapter 16 + most of the rest of what I had started for future chapters in that same document

[Not edited but a bit at the end was redacted cause I really didn’t like it. Pretty much all Vanitas angst. Very long but there’s pictures at the end. Asterisks are italics cause I use discord too much; empty brackets means there should be other stuff there]

Vanitas let his brother row the boat, since this excursion had been his dumb idea in the first place and Vanitas had never been particularly confident in his nautical navigation skills. He’d gotten off late from work, and Ventus had worked even later, so the sun was already setting. But they were adults. They could handle a little darkness.

There was a bundle of jitters crawling around in the pit of his stomach, but it wasn’t his own emotion he was feeling. He stared pointedly at Ventus, who was almost a little too focused on rowing. “You’re nervous.” It wasn’t a question.

“Hm?” Ventus looked up in surprise. “Um, maybe.”

Vanitas sighed. “You’re the one who asked me to come, idiot. Why are *you* nervous?”

He shrugged. “I dunno, it’s just... we haven’t hung out in a while.”

“Well, I’m flattered you hate me that much.”

“No!” He pouted at Vanitas indignantly. “You didn’t let me finish! I was thinking we should do something together, so that’s why I suggested this. I’m just...” He frowned. “Having second thoughts. I don’t know why, but I really feel like we should go home.”

“Maybe you should’ve thought of that *before* we reached the play island,” Vanitas said dryly, pointing out the dock only five feet away.

“Oh...” Ventus sighed and hopped out. “Never mind, then.”

Vanitas waited until Ventus dragged the boat into the sand to disembark. There was no way he was getting these shoes wet. He untied the flannel from around his waist and put it on, still unbuttoned for now, over his binder. It was going to be an unseasonably chilly night.

He followed Ventus as he headed towards the other side of the island, chatting as he went. “I can’t believe it’s been so long since we first came to the islands, Vanitas! It feels like it’s only been a few days since you and Kairi showed up.” He linked his hands behind his head as he walked, his eyes widening. “Oh, man, Kairi’s *old* now... Those kids grow up so fast...”

Vanitas rolled his eyes. “*We’re* pushing *thirty*, Ventus.”

“Hey, your thirties are the best years of your life!”

“Not when you’re a hardware store manager and the town librarian. Did Hikari tell you that one?”

“... How’d you guess?”

“Because she’s forty and misses being younger.”

“Aww, no she doesn’t. Mom just wishes we could all be home more often.”

“She sure sees you often enough at work.”

Ventus stopped and shook his head. “Just because it’s a small hospital doesn’t mean we see each other all the time, you know. But we both like working there, so it’s all good.” He turned around and smirked at Vanitas. “Besides, you love your jobs, don’t try to lie to me. Taiyo’s practically your dad, and you’d *live* at the library if you could.”

Vanitas struggled to keep a genuine smile off his face. “Yeah, whatever.”

They emerged on the other beach just as the sun reached the horizon, throwing yellow light across the waves. Vanitas made sure to stand directly in its path, basking in the last warmth of the day. Ventus just squinted and made his way down the beach, waiting for Vanitas to follow, which he did, reluctantly. He asked something he’d been meaning to for a while. “Did you ever figure out how to summon your keyblade?”

“...I’ve never tried.” Ventus put his hands in his pockets, standing in the same place he’d found two displaced kids almost a decade ago. “I’d rather not get involved with... all that if I don’t have to. And if I never summon it, we can never fight and forge the χ - blade, right?”

Vanitas stood next to him, shivering in the chilly breeze. “I suppose so. But you know, Kairi finally managed to summon hers a few weeks ago. She could totally beat you up if she wanted to.” He felt he deserved his smug expression.

Ventus looked at him, shocked. “You taught Kairi how to summon her keyblade?”

“She’s older than we were when we first learned. I wanted her to be able to fight... just in case something happens.” He shivered again.

“You’re too pessimistic. Nothing bad’s going to happen.”

“Well, you never know. I still think you should learn.”

“And I think you should wear more clothes if you’re so cold!” Vanitas yelped as his brother poked his exposed belly button.

“Hey, you can’t hide perfection!”

“Ugh, you’ve been working out again, haven’t you?”

He struck a bit of a pose, showing off his abs. “You know it.” They both giggled uncontrollably at the ridiculousness of it all.

Ventus composed himself and crouched down. “I’m still in pretty good shape. I’ll race you to the secret place!”

Vanitas got ready as well. “Oh, you’re on!”

After counting down together, they took off and sprinted down the beach, Vanitas already trailing behind. There was no way he could win against Ventus without teleporting, so he just let the wind whip across his face and through his hair as he ran, not bothering to push himself. He lost sight of Ventus as he entered the passage to the other side of the island and slowed to a walk.

As Vanitas reached the other beach, he looked around for Ventus, but didn’t see him anywhere. He must have already made it to the secret place. He laughed at the fact that Ventus hadn’t even noticed he was no longer being followed and took a step forward.

His whole body was screaming. He went limp and collapsed, his legs folding underneath him and fingers scrambling desperately for purchase in the sand. His head felt like it was splitting open, fear freezing in his veins. His senses failed, and all he could feel was his heartbeat in his ears and hysterical breaths ripping through his chest. What was happening to him?

Suddenly, it all stopped. He clambered to his feet, breathing hard, as he immediately understood. Ventus. He’d been feeling Ventus. Vanitas had experienced his upset emotions before, but nothing like this. This was sheer and all-consuming terror. Something was extremely wrong.

He summoned his keyblade and bolted for the secret place without a second thought, trailing Unversed behind him. He hadn’t lost control over his Unversed in years, but he had more important things to worry about.

His boots made a regular thumping sound on the packed dirt floor of the passageway, echoing his rapid heartbeat. It was dark, but he’d never had problems seeing without light. One of the few perks of his situation. He chuckled breathlessly at the thought, trying unsuccessfully to suppress his building panic.

He skidded into the secret place, eyes immediately locking on to the body on the floor as his shattered heart leapt into his throat. His brother’s eyes were half open, and he lay in a pool of his own blood, motionless. Vanitas *screamed*.

“*Ventus!*”

“*He’s not dead, you know.*” Vanitas looked away in alarm, searching for the source of the deep voice. It was a hooded figure turned away from him and towards the wooden door at the far side of the room. Vanitas raised his keyblade with trembling hands and growled.

“What did you do to him?”

The figure just laughed and raised a covered arm. Shadows appeared all around Vanitas and peeled themselves away from the ground, growing in size until they towered over him. Long, spindly arms. Crooked and trailing antennae. Unblinking eyes glowing a sickly yellow in the darkness.

Neoshadows.

He froze in terror, holding his keyblade in a defensive position, but the Heartless ignored him and went after the Unversed already filling the room, ripping them apart, tearing them limb from limb and wringing their necks, slowly, purposefully. Their deaths came back to Vanitas in a torrent of searing agony, bringing him to his knees, gasping for air, without so much as a touch. 

He dropped his keyblade and it shattered. Seeing him unarmed, the Neoshadows descended on him, wrenching his arms behind him, long, sharp fingers curling around his neck and slicing his skin. Claws ripping into him everywhere, twisting in his wounds and holding him down as his blood dripped to the floor. He tried not to scream again, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of knowing he was suffering, but a distressed sob escaped his throat anyways.

This was torture. The Neoshadows were avoiding serious injuries, instead inflicting pain like he hadn’t felt in years. There was no way this was natural Heartless behavior. They were being controlled by the hooded figure. Vanitas stared at it, utterly petrified. He desperately wanted to fight back, but his body wasn’t responding. He couldn’t even struggle against the Neoshadows’ unrelenting grip. His pathetic fear of them had come back in full force, and he was willing to bet Ventus had the same reaction earlier.

A chill ran down his spine as he thought about it carefully. There was only one person who would know about *that* incident.

“... X-xehanort?”

The figure turned around, but Vanitas couldn’t see into its hood. “*My name is Ansem, but I was once called Xehanort.*”  It chuckled, low and malicious. “*It has been such a long time, my dear apprentice.*”

This couldn’t be happening. There was no way this was real. He was safe here, he... he’d *been* safe, he’d been *free*. He’d had a normal life, a family; he’d been... happy. But it was all slipping through his fingers as he watched in misery.

“*Look at you, Vanitas. All grown up and mature...*” One of the Neoshadows ran its hand down his face, leaving a slit through his lip with its trailing claws as it caressed him. It made him feel sick. “*The years have been kind to you without me, have they not?*”

He tried not to hyperventilate. “How did you f-find me?”

“*It is but a simple matter to find one with the mark of the Recusant’s Sigil on their heart.*”

“Th-the recusant’s...?”

Oh.

*Oh no.*

Vanitas had a myriad of scars littered across his skin, both from battle and from cruel discipline, but by far the deepest were a pair of intersecting gashes that spanned the entirety of his back. They had been carefully and painfully carved into his flesh time and time again, and even after a decade they hadn’t faded. He had thought they’d been compelled by thoughtless sadism, but he realized now that they formed a recusant’s sigil, the intersection of which lay directly over his heart.

Xehanort never did anything thoughtlessly. He’d been branding Vanitas, marking him as his... *property*, making certain he’d never be able to slip from his clutches.

Vanitas’ heart sank. The past ten years had been for nothing.

He’d never escaped at all.

The hooded figure drew closer, observing him. Its cold voice permeated the air between them, twisting its way into his ears until he could hear nothing else. “*A being of pure darkness... how utterly fascinating. Surely, leaving you behind was one of the worst mistakes I ever made.*” He felt the Neoshadows tighten their grip on him possessively, and his breath hitched in his throat. ”*But it’s a mistake I intend to correct. It’s finally time to return to my side, Vanitas. Imagine all the great things we could accomplish together.*” 

“N-no.”

The figure came to a halt. “*... What was that?*”

Vanitas bared his teeth, ignoring the sting of his split lip and glaring up into the dark hood. “I said *no*!”

The figure waved its arm and the Neoshadows roughly forced his head down until he was bowing, staring at a growing puddle of his own blood. Their claws sunk even deeper into his neck. He had to struggle to stay conscious through the pain and panic, trying to breathe but failing miserably.

The voice was absolutely venomous. “*You misunderstand the situation. I wasn’t giving you a choice, boy.*”

Vanitas felt bitter tears collect in the corners of his eyes. He’d thought he was better than this. He’d thought he had gotten stronger, able to put his past behind him, and yet here he was, practically a child again, forced to his knees in anguish in front of Xehanort and completely helpless. Nothing had changed. He couldn’t protect Ventus, who was still unconscious and bleeding on the floor next to him. He couldn’t even protect himself. There was nothing he could do anymore. Nothing at all.

Tears dropped to the floor, mingling with his blood, swirling in sickening patterns as he watched, his vision blurring. He squeezed his eyes shut, choking out a desperate plea. “P-please... just... d-don’t hurt Ventus anymore... I-I’ll... I’ll do whatever you want.”

“*Excellent. I’m looking forward to it. Your first task is to bring Ventus to the castle in Hollow Bastion and wait for me there. You’ll be supervised by the Neoshadows for now.*” He could hear the cruel smile in the voice as it whispered in his ear, the rest of the world melting away around him. “*Well? What do you say, Vanitas?*”

He felt numb.

“... Yes, Master.”

[]

Riku threw Soul Eater down in frustration. They clenched their hands into fists. “Fight *back!*”

Their knuckles impacted solidly on Vanitas’ cheek, but he just slackened and slid to the floor, hair falling around his face. He made no move to get up. “Riku...”

Riku felt tears pricking at the corners of their eyes and slammed them shut as they kicked Vanitas in the side. “I said fight back, you *idiot*!”

His voice was quiet and strained. “I don’t want to hurt you, Riku.”

“*Then why’d you hurt Kairi?!*” Riku tried to shout, but their voice cracked halfway through.

“I - I didn’t mean...” He swallowed hard and with some difficulty, looking at Riku imploringly. “They already have you and Ventus... I... I couldn’t let them have Kairi, too.”

Riku choked out a laugh. “Nobody ‘has’ me! I’m here because I want to be!”

Vanitas only seemed more distressed. “You’re being manipulated, Riku, we all are! The Master’s grooming you to be his new vessel!”

“*I DON’T CARE!*”

Vanitas was taken aback by the outburst, but Riku just kept yelling.

“I *don’t* care, I don’t!” They were really crying now, tears angrily streaming down their face. “I want to be *strong!* Strong enough to protect myself, and strong enough to protect Ventus and Sora and Kairi! Strong like *you*, Vanitas!”

Vanitas lowered his head. “I... I was never strong.”

“You’re right,” Riku croaked. “You’re *weak*, I see that now. I’m weak too, aren’t I?” They sank to their knees, laughing and weeping bitterly. “Sora and Kairi don’t need me anymore. And I’m not even worthy of my own keyblade. The darkness is all I have left. I’m just like you!”

[]

“They’re both important to me.”

“Remarkable, then, that you’ve managed to lose both of them through your foolish actions.”

Vanitas gave Ansem a hard glare. “I swear, I won’t let you or any of your dumb Heartless lay another finger on Ventus. But Kairi...” He looked at her lifeless body, still crumpled on the floor. His stomach turned. “She’s better off without me, anyways.”

Ansem coolly considered him for a moment, thinking. “Well, Vanitas, you may be a fascinating creature, but frankly, I’ve already got all the data I need. And if you’re refusing to follow orders...” He shook his head in mock disappointment. “Then it seems you’ve outlived your usefulness. However...” He smirked. “I do have an idea for one last test.”

Vanitas scoffed, looking away. “I won’t do it.”

Ansem stepped closer, crushing a Thornbite under his boot and chuckling as he saw Vanitas flinch. There was clear amusement in his voice when he spoke. “Don’t worry, it’s a very simple observational study. It doesn’t even require your active participation.”

He retrieved Soul Eater, pressing the tip against Vanitas’ neck, just carefully enough to avoid drawing blood. Vanitas involuntarily went limp as the sword tilted his head upwards, the sharp blade threatening to dig into the exposed flesh below his chin while his dull yellow eyes met a pair of cold teal ones.

Looking at the unfamiliar expression on that familiar face, he realized he could never fight back, not against Riku’s body. Not against this child who was still precious to him. He was powerless. Just as he had always been.

A foreign, vicious grin spread across Riku’s - Ansem’s - face. “Let’s see how much it takes to *break you.*”

[]

“But you’re a creature of pure darkness. A monster.” She leveled her keyblade at him. “This is where you belong.”

He laughed, but to Aqua’s surprise, it didn’t sound at all the way she remembered it. When they had fought, his laugh had been a taunting sound, hysterical and malicious.

The way he sounded now was... heartbroken.

Instead of raising his keyblade, he dropped it, falling to his knees and slumping over, clutching at his chest. “You’re right, Aqua... Th-this *is* where I belong...”

Aqua let her keyblade lower slightly, confused. She hadn’t been expecting him to agree with her, much less with so much sadness in his voice. “What?”

He laughed again, shuddering violently, then without warning his head drooped and he fell sideways. He hit the sand and went completely still, his breathing slowing.

What in the name of Kingdom Hearts was going on? *Vanitas*, of all people, shows up in the Realm of Darkness, has the gall to act surprised to see *her*, then passes out? She was tempted to just leave him there and go on her merry way, but it had been so long since she’d seen another person (although applying the term ‘person’ to Vanitas was questionable) that she decided to have a look.

She carefully approached, wary that he might be faking it. That certainly seemed like something he would do, pretend to be unconscious until Aqua got close enough for him to execute a surprise attack. But there continued to be no indication that he was awake. She even had to kill a few Unversed that were poking around his body.

Aqua used the toe of her shoe to flip him onto his back. To her shock, the action left behind a horrifyingly large bloodstain in the sand. She took a sharp breath as she knelt down beside him, checking him for wounds as best she could through his thick bodysuit. From up close, the coppery stench of blood was nearly overwhelming.

He was bleeding profusely from a gash on his neck, running vertically from his chin all the way down to the middle of his chest. Aqua’s heart skipped a beat as she found a series of almost methodical cuts across his torso and arms. These weren’t made by the indiscriminately attacking Heartless. He’d been deliberately hurt by somebody, and badly. It was a wonder he was even still alive.

She cast a Curaga without a second thought. He may have been an evil brat, but she wasn’t about to leave him to die.

His breathing evened out and Aqua felt herself relax slightly. She settled back on her heels, wiping the blood off her hands. For a moment, she just sat there, contemplating her sleeping enemy. Although she had said he belonged here, in truth, she had no idea how he’d ended up in the Realm of Darkness, let alone with so many injuries. What had happened since the last time she defeated him?

Vanitas continued to lay quietly inert while Aqua’s curiosity grew. She cautiously placed a hand on his helmet, remembering when she had fought him in... what was the name of that city, again? She had nearly removed his mask before he’d yelled at her and run away. But if he was really out this time...

Taking a deep breath, she gingerly pulled the helmet off, exposing a cascade of messy black hair and, beyond that... a face, wet with tears and blood and marred by bruises and old scars. Aqua’s shoulders fell in surprise. He looked just like those boys she had met here not so long ago: Sora and Ventus, if she remembered their names correctly. Perhaps Vanitas had been telling the truth about being Ventus’ brother. She wondered if they’d ever found each other, and, if they had, whether Ventus had made it out of the encounter alive.

Aqua found herself brushing hair from Vanitas’ forehead in spite of her distaste for him. Aside from too-sharp teeth and a pair of pointy ears sticking out from his tangled hair, he could nearly pass for human. She sighed, her eyebrows furrowing. Had he really just been a child this whole time? A child who did horrible things, but.....

Well, he certainly wasn’t a child anymore. He was still pretty short, but he was unmistakably older than he used to be, probably even older than herself. And if his strange behavior was any indication... *maybe* he’d changed. It seemed unlikely, though, especially if he was still running around as Xehanort’s apprentice.

What had happened to Xehanort? To Terra? Aqua was desperate to find out, and Vanitas could be her only chance. If she could manage to wake him up without him trying to kill her, that is. She looked around for something to restrain him with, but, finding not much more than sand and coconuts, she resorted to using her sash to fasten his hands together behind him. It would most likely end up being useless, but it was better than nothing.

A barrage of freezing water against the bare skin of his face. Hands roughly pulling him upright as he coughed, attempting to clear his lungs. He tried to get away, protect himself, *something,* but he couldn’t move his arms and he panicked. His coughing soon turned to gagging, black bile forcing itself through his throat before he could even think.

The hands quickly drew back while a voice he didn’t recognize cursed loudly. The muck splattered on the ground, writhing in agony as beady red eyes formed within it. A keyblade was on it in an instant, sending a jolt of pain through his chest as the fledgling Unversed was destroyed. “*Light,* Vanitas, what is *wrong* with you?” He couldn’t answer, shaking and gasping as he struggled to calm down and remember what was going on.

The hand reached for him again, and though he tried to flinch away, it caught his shoulder and squeezed firmly. “Hey, relax. I’m not gonna hurt you unless you attack me.” It definitely wasn’t the Master, then.

“H-hurts when the... Unversed are k-killed, though...” The other voice said some more words he wouldn’t dare repeat in front of the kids.

Oh. The kids...

Water dripped down his face as his vision cleared, washing blood and black sludge away with it. He could tell that his hands were tied behind his back, although considering his history with the person he’d run into, who was now sitting in front of him looking perturbed, that seemed fair. “Aqua?”

“Yeah? What?” She narrowed her eyes as though he’d said her name as a challenge.

Vanitas could no longer feel the injuries left by Ansem in his last assault. “Did... did you heal me?”

She sighed, sweeping wet hair out of his face as he shivered. “Don’t take it personally. It’s so lonely down here that I didn’t feel like letting you die, that’s all.”

[]

“You mean...?”

Say it. Get it out in the open. It hurt less that way.

“... Yeah. Xehanort abused me.”

She looked horrified. “For *years?*”

He stared down at his shoes. “Yep...”

Aqua’s face cycled through several shades of upset before settling on disdain. “And is that supposed to make me feel sorry for you?” It was pretty obvious she *was* pitying him, but Vanitas didn’t call her out on it.

“I’m well aware it doesn’t excuse what I did to you.” He locked eyes with her earnestly. “I don’t know if you’ll care, but I’m sorry. *Really.* I was hurt and mislead, but that doesn’t make it right.” He looked down again, curling in on himself. “I can understand if you won’t forgive me.”

After a minute of awkward silence, she huffed and turned away. “Well, you’ve certainly become more mature. I wasn’t expecting to ever get an apology out of you. I... appreciate it, I guess.”

“... You’re welcome?”

They sat quietly for a few moments while Aqua contemplated something. Eventually, she faced him again in concern. “What I still don’t get, though, is what reason you’d have to go back to Xehanort *now.* You seem like you’ve become a semi-decent person, so I doubt you’re in it for the apocalyptic aspect, and he treats you terribly and nearly *killed* you when given the chance, so... why?”

He broke eye contact. “I... didn’t have a choice. He took Ventus, and I...” He took a shaky breath. “I *can’t get away* from him, Aqua. He’s constantly tracking me. He knew where I was this whole time, and he just... let me *think* I was free until he wanted his... f-favorite toy back...”

He could almost feel the weight of the sigil on his back curling around him like a vise.

Aqua’s hard expression finally broke. “Vanitas...” She took a deep breath as well. “For what it’s worth, I... I’m sorry, too. For being rude and calling you a... monster.”

He scoffed. “It’s not like it was unwarranted.”

She shook her head. “Maybe not, but I’m sure it didn’t help. I let my anger get the best of me and I didn’t see you were hurting. So... I’m sorry.”

He felt very small then. “... It’s fine.”

Ch 16 pics I never posted cause spoilers

A bit embarrassing though jfhsghd. I generally don’t post my gratuitously angsty/edgy stuff

Xion intro scene

[Notated for edits which I never made]

She chewed her lip nervously, twisting her hands in the hem of her dress. The lower levels of the castle always put her on edge. People in white coats stared at her expectantly as they all pretended not to hear the scary noises coming from deeper in. The silver-haired man who called himself Ansem but was *not* Ansem asked her about her new friend while the one-eyed guard smirked behind him. She didn’t tell the silver-haired man anything. He sighed.

//add

She sat down in the big chair and worried. The man who was not Ansem hadn’t asked to see her in a while, not since soon after the other Ansem had left and the silver-haired man had taken his name. The new Ansem wasn’t as nice as the old one. He’d sent the one-eyed guard to her house very early this morning, and she hadn’t even gotten a chance to tell her friend that she’d be busy today. He’d be upset. He didn’t like being alone. He was -

He was completely alone. He’d been used to being alone, a long time ago. But it felt so *different* this time. This time, he had known what it was like, to be happy, to actually be loved and wanted. And the stark absence of that almost hurt more than anything else.

Almost.

/*The dark claws ripped him apart slowly, almost reverently,*/ as if watching him suffer in their grip was the most fascinating thing in all the worlds. Maybe it was, to Ansem. The creature may have been calling itself his Master, but it seemed more inclined to research rather than actually teach, and the constant threat to the lives of the others caught in its clutches (and his own *pathetic* cowardice) left him a perfectly cooperative subject for its study. Though he couldn’t imagine what this sort of sadistic exercise was actually supposed to achieve, other than leaving him broken and empty.

Then again, maybe that *was* the point. What /*new and interesting thing*/ would Ansem find when it examined his heart? A battered shell, the already shattered remnants of another torn out and ground to dust until all that was left was a hollow, dark void? It wouldn’t surprise him, honestly. It already felt that way.

A sudden streak of agony shot through him as the claws sunk deeper, and he desperately tried not to scream, choking down his sobs as silently as he could. He’d promised himself that he’d be quiet, because otherwise *Riku* would hear, and then -

Who was Riku? She didn’t know a Riku.

She fidgeted, a bit confused. She could tell she was still laying in the chair, but it felt far smaller than it had previously. Or maybe... *she* had somehow grown much *bigger!* She giggled at the realization. If she showed up to the courtyard like this, she’d nearly be as tall as her friend -

He was a little too small. He almost laughed bitterly at that through the pain. He’d already been unfairly short; now he might even be able to properly share clothes with his closet-raiding (spunky, sassy, precious, perfect, *missing, in danger, better off without him*) sister -

*Vanitas!*

*Kairi...*

She beamed with happiness.

He wept in anguish.

His tears ran down her grinning face as he opened her eyes, and nothing had changed. She was still in that horrible room, in that horrible chair, with the silver-haired man that was and was not Ansem staring at him. She brought a hand up to his cheek, surprised to find it dry, with only the ghost of a smile and a faint memory of sorrow left.

He looked down at her unfamiliar hand, catching a glimpse of her hair out of the corner of his eye, shorter than his but a different color than hers. It... it wasn’t right. None of it was right. He trembled, carefully studying the rest of her. Everything was just a little bit wrong. She wasn’t quite him, but he wasn’t quite her, either. She could feel the panic and confusion bubbling up in his chest.

Who was she?

Who was he?

...Who were *they?*

//add

The awful man who was and was not Ansem smiled coldly at them, and gave them their name.

*...Xion.*

The one single Destiny Islands slice-of-life-ish drabble I started one time

Vanitas huffed into the pillow in his arms and pressed further into the corner where his bed met the wall, as he often did. [] He felt the pressure of several unmanifested Unversed threatening to tear themselves free, the incessant prickling of one escaped Thornbite’s vines curling around his ankle - or wait, maybe his foot was just falling asleep from putting pressure on it weird - and the unmistakable beginnings of a tension headache. Fantastic.

He opened one eye at the sound of his door creaking open (he did *not* tense up, he *didn’t*; he’d have to be an idiot to think there was any need to) and caught sight of a sliver of dim light from the hallway growing briefly and then shrinking back to nothing with a careful click of the door handle. He barely had enough time to process what that had been before there was a gentle tug at the one corner of his sheets that was still hanging off the far side of the bed, a wet sniffle, and a whisper.

“Vanitas?”

“What.” He replied flatly, trying not to be *too* annoyed that Kairi had showed up to interrupt his brooding.

“H-had a bad dream...” Kairi paused to take an unsteady breath, rubbing at her eyes with a blanket she’d dragged there with her. “C-can I..?”

He sighed and turned to face the wall. “Whatever. Not like I’m using that side of the bed anyways.”

Kairi stuttered out her thanks. Then with some effort, she hoisted herself up and onto the bed, pulling her blanket up after her, and situated herself in the empty space. Vanitas laid still, listening to her quiet sniveling as she tried to settle down and also blow her nose.

After a few ineffective minutes of this, he grumbled and pushed his irritation away as a small Flood. (Just to get rid of it. Obviously. Might even lessen his headache, if he got lucky for once.) It zipped straight to Kairi, nosing at her face and making her giggle just the tiniest bit. It flopped down beside her as she scratched the back of its neck and pet it gently, and it started warbling contentedly in a way that *aaaalmost* sounded like purring. Tch. Smug little bastard.

Vanitas was... still not quite used to receiving positive feedback through the link he shared with his Unversed, and the phantom sensation brushing up and down his own spine was bizarre, to say the least. It also felt *really* nice though, unfortunately, and he just barely managed to catch himself before the tension would’ve dropped from his shoulders entirely. Kairi hummed mildly behind him and tickled the underside of the Flood’s jaw, making him scowl even harder into his pillow. He heard a few quiet chuckles find their way through the sniffles. Ok yeah, she knew *exactly* what she was doing.

“So, any particular reason you decided to bother *me* instead of your parents?”

Kairi stilled at that, wrapping her arms around the Flood like it was a stuffed animal. “My dream... it was, um. Of home.” Vanitas peeked back towards her apprehensively, catching sight of her quivering lip and still-runny nose. “Of when we left.”

“Do you... remember it?“

Kairi shook her head. “I forgot after I woke up. It was... s-scary, though...” She squeezed the Flood a little tighter. “You got hurt real bad then, didn’t you?”

He hummed noncommittally in response.

“My grandma, the other kids, everyone...” Fresh tears welled up in her eyes. “Do you think anyone else made it out, or are they all... d-did they...?”

Vanitas looked away. “...I don’t know.” He very nearly caught the inside of his cheek between his teeth. He’d been utterly useless during the attack on Radiant Garden. *Worse* than useless; he’d barely escaped with his own life. And in the end, he hadn’t even really saved Kairi, had he? “...S-sorry...”

[]

“And what have I done to deserve it?”

[]

“Would *anything* be different if I’d just-“

*If I’d just died that day at the graveyard like I was* meant *to?*

“...I-if I’d never made it to the city?”

Interstitial of Sora talking to the folks at Traverse Town about Vani

“Why, if it ain’t Squall” - Leon grimaced but didn’t correct him - “an’ Yuffie. Heard you two beat up some kid earlier?” Cid raised an eyebrow.

Yuffie placed a hand over her heart in mock supplication. “For once, I am innocent.” Then she grinned as she elbowed Leon in the side. “This one was all Leon.”

“Sora here claims to know the...” Leon’s brow furrowed as he looked away. “Uh...”

“The cryptid!” Yuffie helpfully supplied.

This did not seem to help Leon. “...Right, that thing.”

Cid almost looked surprised for a moment, but quickly turned dour, squinting at Sora, who was casually standing with his hands behind his head, entirely lost as to what they were talking about. “Well that’d be one heckuva coincidence. Ya sure about that, kid?”

“Uh. Maybe?” Sora wasn’t sure where this was going, but Leon was looking between him and Cid expectantly, so he continued. “What do they look like?”

Cid chewed thoughtfully on his toothpick. “Black hair, yellow eyes, would be... oh, maybe ‘bout Squall’s age nowadays? An’ always had those weird li’l buggers with the red eyes - not Heartless, but kinda similar.”

“Oh!” Sora started in recognition. “Looked kinda like me?”

“Yeah, picked ‘em up off the street ‘bout ten years back. Real piece a’ work, that one. Darn near took my head off trynna get away after they finally woke up.”

[]

“Got the feelin’ he was expectin’ every hand to hurt instead a’ help. An’ looked to me like he learned that from experience, if y’know what I mean. Not too uncommon for kids ya find on the street, but he was worse off than most I seen.

Welp, that’s about it! Asks are always open but I can’t guarantee I’ll answer them. I also usually don’t respond to comments anymore just cause my fics are so old and hard to think about. Thanks for understanding!

[mylittlebeliefs]

The Faith of the lady who has been sick for 12 years

A couple months or maybe a year ago I accidently watched an episode from The Chosen about Little James talking to Jesus. I got interested as soon as I realized Little James was asking Jesus if He could heal him (because he was a lame) since he was given a mission to heal the sick and lame. Jesus said some powerful statement that made me think and assume that maybe God is telling me the same thing. 

Let me give you a little background of myself (which I talk about openly). At the age 15 I started experiencing depressive states. I couldn’t get up in the morning without feeling bad about myself and physically groggy. At the age of 16, I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder 2 and Borderline Personality Disorder. One of the doctors explained that my disorder will forever be with me and that the only thing we can do is drink my maintenance medications and have a monthly therapy session. Going back to the episode I watched about little James and Jesus’ conversation, I felt like maybe God didn’t want to heal me and just move forward with my life. I didn’t take this on a bad note, I took it as a different story to tell. That I still believe in God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit despite the sickness I will forever have. 

A couple of weeks ago I started committing my life to God. One of those commitments means I will learn the bible more, understand it and live by it. With this commitment I also started watching The Chosen to know more about Jesus’ life here on earth. Side note: I’ve been tearing up every now and then but not because of pain or sadness but because of how impactful Jesus’ mission was in my current life. Going back, I was watching the episode where this sick woman for 12 years (bleeding problems)  touched Jesus’ garment and was instantly healed. Jesus felt the Power coming out of Him and so He asked the crowd who had touched Him. People were confused knowing that everyone was pressing on Him and a lot of people had touched Him. He asked again and so this fearful woman admitted to touching His garment. This is one of the most powerful and impactful scenes for me, when Jesus called her Daughter, and told her that her faith healed her. (Mark 5:34, Luke 8: 48 and Matthew 9: 22) 

I caught myself tearing up, again. I just felt that in this episode and the affirmation from the bible verses I read, speaks so loud. I always believed my doctor about my sickness. I thought acceptance was the key, but in all honesty my medications we’re not helping at all and just made me feel worse, even doctors from the States were telling me how my medications were too strong and that it’s frying my brain (I believe that’s also one of the reasons why I easily forget things). My therapy sessions were also not as helpful because besides the fact that it’s only a monthly thing, I didn’t feel understood. Let me go back to the sick lady, I just want to point out that she has been bleeding for 12 YEARS (How did she survive this?). But in all that pain and suffering, she didn’t lose hope. It says in the bible she wasted all her money on doctors who just made her bleeding worse. When she was given an opportunity to even just touch Jesus’ garment (because back then she’s considered as unclean and so are those she touches), she did. HER FAITH SAVED HER. It wasn’t the garment of Jesus’ but her Faith in Jesus and our Lord God. 

I just want to share with you how many times I gave up and lost hope, that I was brought to the ER and was confined 6 times in a year. At first, I just cried and cried about how God won’t just let me die but a voice in my head would always tell me “It’s not yet time.” I thought maybe God still needs me here on Earth, but then it frustrates me how much pain I have to bear. A few months ago, I had enough and just went to a small chapel and really asked Jesus to take my life away. BUT a month ago I also had the same thought but instead of asking God to take my life away, I committed my life to God. Like what Bryce Crawford said in one of his interviews “I didn’t want my life so I gave it to Someone who does.” This commitment saved my life. Now I choose not to drink my medications (which I’m not totally recommending; this is only for me) and offer my worries, anxieties, pain, and sufferings to Him. I trust and put my faith in Him so much that He will cast my disorders away. Like the lady who was sick for 12 years and Bryce Crawford (who had anxiety and depression for a long time), my Faith saved me. And it’s not a one time thing, it’s a lifetime commitment. I still struggle everyday but the joy and clarity I feel after my prayer time is just amazing and way more powerful than the anxieties and depressions I felt before. 

Let me go back to the episode I saw with Little James and Jesus. I watched it again recently, and I realized Jesus said “You will be healed in time” and Oh my goodness I just felt the affirmation from that too. For those reading this, I’m not here to tell you don't drink your medications or  don’t see your therapist or doctors. It’s different for all of us, but I do recommend committing yourself to knowing Jesus and His teachings. Then, commit to understanding it and to live by it. It’s not easy, trust me, but small steps help. I have this Bible app where it notifies me about the bible verse for the day and also has explanations for that specific verse. 

Being a Christian is not easy (to surpass your own understanding and just trusting God; to love despite the pain; to stay away from my own pleasure and choose what God calls us to do and a lot more) but to be free from anxieties, hate, pain, fear that I caused myself before, is just amazing (I can’t put into words how great it is). Do it at your own pace too. It took me a lot of years to get to this and I pray you do too. 

[dailyaudiobible]

10/17/2023 DAB Transcript

Jeramiah 30:1-31:26, 1 Timothy 2:1-15, Psalm 87:1-7, Proverbs 25:18-19

Today is the 17th day of October, welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I’m Brian. It is a pleasure and an honor to be here with you today around the Global Campfire, as we prepare to take the next step forward in the Scriptures this year. So, we’re reading from the God's Word Translation this week and today we’ll read from the book of Jeremiah chapter 30 verse 1 through 31 verse 26.

Commentary:

Okay, so that Proverb that we just read is important because it gives language to certain kinds of behavior that shows how volatile and dangerous it can be. So, it's saying a liar, a person who gives false testimony against his neighbor right, so a person who is willing to lie, and this is way beyond like lying in court. A person who's willing to lie about someone else, whether that be through the fabrication of assumption and gossip, or just straight up telling a lie. That's like taking a club and beating them. That’s like taking a sword and swinging it or shooting a sharp arrow. That's pretty stark language that shows us just how treacherous that behavior is and to add to that, to put your confidence in that kind of a person, an undependable, unfaithful person. When you find yourself in crisis, to depend on a person like that is like having a broken tooth or a lame foot, you can't function correctly. So, I mean as stark as this is, if you are untruthful and undependable then that's what you're doing to those around you. And conversely, if you have people in your life that are like this, then this is what they're doing to you. So, the obvious conclusion from Proverbs is that to be a liar, to be willing to give false testimony, to be undependable and unfaithful, especially in a time of crisis, these…these behaviors are going nowhere, and they will only bring about wounding, injury, and destruction. So clearly, if we want to walk the path of wisdom, then these things cannot be a habitual part of our lives because they're the opposite, they're moving in the opposite direction, they’re going the wrong way.

Prayer:

And so, Holy Spirit, we invite You into the truest parts of who we are, we invite You into our identity. We ask You to surface these things in us, show us the ways in which we behave contrary to wisdom because that is not our heart’s desire, and only through the power of Your Holy Spirit, can those things be changed. So come, we invite You fully and grant You complete access to our hearts and ask for Your transformation. Come Jesus, we pray in Your mighty name. Amen.

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And that's it for today, I’m Brian, I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Prayer and Encouragements:

Hello DABers. This is Angie from Texas, also Crucified with Jesus. My son Juan was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer a year and a half ago. And he’s been doing good. Of course, the doctor say it’s, you know, not curable but he was doing really good. But in his last scan it shows the cancer has advanced. So, we need to change treatment. So, of course, we are scared. He’s 34-years-old and he wants to live. He loves the Lord so that gives him peace. And we have all our hope in Jesus. It will be His will. But I ask the DABers, the DABer family, to pray for him, keep him in your prayers for strength to go through what’s coming with treatment and for all of us in his family to give him strength and for the Lord to give him wisdom and discernment and peace in his heart. We would really appreciate all the prayers coming our way from the DABer family. Thank you all.

Hello my DAB family. This is Jamie in New Jersey, Standing on the Word of God. I humbly ask you, please pray with me. Dear Father in Heaven, thank You for this beautiful day. Thank You for our families and our friends. We praise You. Among all that we have, Father, we know there are people that need help. Give us the strength to help them and always stand for the right thing. We pray for the wisdom to do things the right way. Help us not to neglect people that we have the power to help. We lift them up to You and ask that You would bless them, help them and heal them. Open our eyes, make us aware of the opportunities we have to bless others in need. We want to be Your face, hands and feet for others. Help us to serve humbly, promptly and gracefully. May we help make someone else’s load lighter. We pray in Jesus name. Amen. Thank you for praying along with me, my brothers and sisters. I love each and every one of you. Have a good night.

Hi beloved family, this is Prisoner of Hope. I wanted to encourage and let all of you know that I have had two sons come to the Lord in the last two years. I’ve had my son Timothy, whose 22, give his life to the Lord last year and was baptized. And then AJ, who many of you have prayed for, I have, he has come to the Lord, and he just got baptized recently. So, I’m ecstatic about both of them. Please continue to pray for my son Robbie and his wife Shelby, our daughter Natalie and my husband Kurt. All of them desperately need salvation. With that, I’m praying for those of you who have asked for salvation for people you love. Heather of Pikes Peak, Texas, that the people of Israel would turn to God and they would be protected from Hamas. Debbie in Canada, your son Patrick, you said needs to come to Jesus, I am praying for him. Andrea, your daughter Rain. You asked that she would, that you would want her to come home to Jesus as well. And then your son Jayden and his friend Ethan, who’s dealing with bipolar. It wasn’t clear exactly what you were asking for prayer, but I am praying for salvation for both of them. If they are saved, then the Lord will know that they already are. Rifka in Tennessee, your dad doesn’t know the Lord and is at the end of his life. And then DABer Drew of the Ozarks, you’re going to visit your 82-year-old unsaved mother and you want her to come to Jesus as well. Heavenly Father, I’m lifting up each of these people that You know, that You love. We thank You that You are faithful to us. And we know that if You would do the miracle of raising Your own son from the dead, that You would raise the people we love from the dead as well. The odds weren’t good Lord, we know that, for Jesus to be raised, and yet you did it all the same. And so, Lord, would You call them. Draw them in, enable them, may they have their hardness of hearts turned to hearts of flesh. That they would know their need for You. Put people in their lives who would do this for them. We ask this in the precious, beautiful name of Jesus. Amen.

Good morning, everyone, it’s Susan from Canada, God’s Yellow Flower calling. And I want to pray for Lost in Texas and all of us who are looking for a job that would, you know, pay the bills, for sure and help us to live in society here as a productive member. So, Lord God, You see the need. You see the need and Your own word says that if you don’t work, you don’t eat. There is desire to work, it’s just the difficulty is finding a job, the right job, the right fit. So, I lift a man from Texas, Lost in Texas, and I just pray Lord God that You would just bless him with the right job at just the right time that he needs to fulfill all the needs of his life. I pray God, You would direct his path, increase his hope and trust in You. And Lord God, that You would help him to stay on the straight and narrow path while he waits for Your perfect timing. Lord, he is, he sounds so desperate. Be his hope Lord God, be his truth, be his way. And I pray for all the others who are looking for jobs as well, God. That they would remain faithful until You have opened the door that You want them to walk through. In Jesus precious and holy name, I pray. Amen.

[outlanderskin]

I think the big difference is that Henry Cavill has a relationship that exists and that he values. This thing about protecting privacy when you are someone who is anything but private is a fallacy. This story of protecting your loved one from hate also falls apart when we see Prince Harry publicly assumed the relationship and married Meghan, without caring what it would cost him. That's what you do when you love someone. And by the way, you can't compare Henry and Harry's fame with S's. S is followed by a specific audience, the fact that he is/ isn't in a relationship will not cause a national commotion. The same applies to C. I have never heard of any actress being canceled because she treats her partner in public in a passionate manner. Who are these dangerous people, which is why they can act normally with their partners? Half a dozen shippers? The small vocal group? If S got into a relationship, he wouldn't lose fans, his fans would continue to be crazy about him and deify the "chosen one" as they always do. Not because they admire the person, but because they think they are pleasing their idol. We know very well who is the only woman they fear S is having a relationship with and we also know why. Hiding relationships between two equally famous people would be something more common to happen for reasons mentioned a thousand times here. If I worked as an actress and had a romantic relationship with a co-star with whom I play a couple, I would hide it too. I wouldn't want people to judge my ability to have chemistry and act with someone using the argument of "oh, but that's nothing, they're a couple in real life". Between a couple of just co-stars and a "married couple" who play a couple in love, critics (and the environment) will have different eyes when judging the work.

But back to the famous people: did it make any difference in the lives of Henry, Harry, Gal, Anne Hathaway or other famous people what fans or haters think of their significant others?

Love is a matter of all or nothing, I always advise my daughter and my students to run away from men who want to hide the relationship to protect their privacy, but post even the to-go coffee they buy on the subway.

When it comes to celebrities, either you are private like Tobias Menzies, or you must have the courage to show and deal with your choices. The other day I was talking to a friend that if these relationships with other people that S and C try to show were true, we could consider them two terrible people to have a relationship with. Imagine having a boyfriend or girlfriend who doesn't care about you at events, who runs around the world having fun while you deal with illnesses and diagnoses, who talks about his own life as if you weren't part of it. Imagine being close to your loved one and he/she has a face expression like" I would rather be lying on a fakir's bed". The times when famous had to come to the defense of their loved ones were punctual and real, nothing like the bad attempts and lame excuses.

I'm going to illustrate this post with something that C liked on Instagram at the beginning of it all, at a time when she had lightness and a smile on her face. Because I believe she (and S) still agrees with every one of those words.

I read an Anon, on another blog, who compared SH-SH and Henry Cavill and his girlfriend. Yes, despite all the harassment and hate, Henry Cavill admitted his relationship with Natalie.

But Sam is definitely not Henry Cavill!!!

IMO He will not go public with a relationship... With Cait or with Sarah, Susie, Karina, or with whatever P invents, or with any man (lol lol) as long as this fandom exists and in a way he depends on this circus.

After the terrible MM era, his strategy has been different, perhaps for some reasons that I don't even know if it's worth listing.

Most here are not ready for this discussion, but S (and C) takes advantage of this freak situation and all of us, our beliefs, our theories, our words and our time.

Years ago, that lame excuse came up "I don't have time for relationships, I film Outlander for 10 months in Scotland" (which imo came from a shipper's speech for S and C not having children).

In his book, the excuse for the lack of relationships was changed to not being able to maintain a relationship due to the trauma of his father's abandonment. And what happened when he and his PR team, his friends, Shitner and even Cait publicly promoted his relationship with MM? (2016-2018)

And now, like a miracle, a woman appeared in Glasgow, so the problem was never "the 10 months" there, right?!

💩💩💩 Blah blah blah...

[downspiral]

— ok whew all that verse has taken the wind out of me and it’s 4am, soooo goodnight lovely people !!