#Zeke is here to GROVEL

[abbott976]

Summary:

Zeke thought he was doing the right thing breaking up with Tina, but it’s been weeks and all he can think about is how badly he’s messed up everything. It’s time to pay Tina a visit and see if there’s a chance she can ever forgive him.

Or: Zeke had good intentions but is a mess and wants a second chance.

[dorminchu]

Entwirren an den Nähten — Chapter Two

Perhaps this story should've been called Eren Jaeger and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

Thanks to @vaegtersang for beta-ing!

ao3. | ffnet.

X.

Since the retaking of Shiganshina, there is nothing tangible left to fight. The soldiers that gave their lives rest in shallow graves. A brittle peace fills the gaps in-between deployment and rest.

Yet the Scouting Regiment is free to explore the island. Paradis, beyond its Walls, is naught but a cemetery. Encampments and stables reclaimed by nature. There's never any sign of life, of bodies rotting in their beds or under the floorboards. The livestock died decades ago or have since moved on.

Toward the southern coast, an edifice towers over the horizon. According to Commander Hanji, it's built from the same material as the Walls. Their previous expedition confirmed its twin on the northern coast. Eren stops his horse, engulfed in the relic's shadow. Craning his neck, he can barely see the top of it. A hard-packed mound of dirt reaches midway and slopes gently down to where they are. There's no blood to stain the grass. No sweet smell of rot. The bones, Hanji suspects, will have already weathered beyond the point of recognisability.

Mikasa's horse stops beside him. The side of Eren's neck prickles. He tightens his grip on the reins.

Armin is in charge of a second squadron, leading the way up top. Mikasa and Eren ready their gear and follow suit. They'll have to use ODM gear to reach the top, but there's a lift that brings them down on the other side. At the base of the Wall, a worn path descends unto a quay. At sea-level the wind does not rip across their faces, but there's a chill in the air.

Armin stares out across the horizon. "They came here on boats," he says after a beat. "Bertholdt, and Reiner and Annie." He glances at Eren who continues to gaze over the horizon. "They probably left the same way."

"Do you think they'll come back?" Mikasa hedges.

Armin tucks his hands into his armpits. "It seems unlikely at this stage."

They both look to Eren.

Zeke is somewhere out there. His father's first mistake. Radicalised and sympathetic to the plight of his long-lost brother. Betrayed as a boy, swept into the cycle of a system who promised him a new life, not in spite of his Eldian blood but because of it. Afraid to renounce his inheritance because without it he is nothing but scum under Marleyan boots. A child who became the outlet for his father's self-flagellation. Zeke lacks the same awareness of his trappings. Perhaps it's become so natural for him to grovel it is no longer shameful. He'll be so glad to hear his half-brother is alive, survived his upbringing in Paradis, that he will not once suspect he is just another proxy.

Just as Armin and Mikasa and the rest refuse to see what is right in front of them until it's too late. Eren has no such luxury. He is the conduit enacting Fritz's will, as his father before Eren Kruger and their forebears. But there's only so much he can speak aloud, before his comrades exchange their helpless looks and he recedes into himself. Time and time again, he finds himself stricken by the limitation of words where memories ebb and flow without pause.

"They were looking for me before," Eren says. "They'll have to come back."

Next morning, the Marleyan ship cuts through the water towards Paradis. There have been a dozen sightings off the southern quay, but this is the first time one of them has attempted to make direct contact. More likely, Hanji says, it's because Zeke has returned to whatever country is sending these naval vessels in the first place.

A flash of illumination briefly outlines the shape of the shoreline. Eren's Titan towers over the naval ship. The devil in his blood has a purpose as the one who was made before.

Soldiers pour from the sides to be dashed apart on the rocks below. The rest cling to the sides of the boat and continue to scream.

Second explosion sends a rippling shock through the water. Must be Armin.

Bodies trampled like ants. The naval forces of Marley are defenceless against a wall of Colossi. The military sends aircrafts over Paradis to blast away the helpless civilians. A war of attrition that is quickly settled once Eren reaches the mainland.

Tiny speckles scattering across the deck of the ship below. The Marleyan captain is shouting for a ceasefire when the bayonet runs through his chest. His look of horror freezes on his face. He's thrown overboard with a splash. The soldier responsible turns and barks, "Stand down!"

At the top of the Wall's dock, Eren and Armin sequester themselves against each other. As Mikasa wipes the blood from Armin's face, he stirs and mutters a thank you. Where Eren has had a year's worth of transformations to become acclimatised, Armin is still getting used to the come-down. The hemic strands cling to his face and leave angry patches, a bloodier contrast to Eren's faded scars.

The enemy POWs are reluctant to accept food or water. Two soldiers are being interrogated. The tall blonde-haired soldier with black eyes and a muscular, lithe build is explaining to Captain Levi that in her home country, they've found a new way to make Titans—only she calls them Pure Titans—using an Eldian's spinal fluid. It tastes a lot like blood, and smells like saltwater, but if you pour a little into a batch of wine it's hard to tell the difference once you're drunk. As soon as it's in the body of the unsuspecting Eldians, all it takes is someone with royal blood to induce a mass-transformation.

The word goes that Marley has been experimenting with "timed" transformations. They've done test-runs, dropping them out of aircrafts. When the Captain asks how Yelena knows this, she says, "Cos' my friend here was the one pulling the lever."

She motions to her colleague, Onyankopon. "It's not like we had much choice," he says quietly. "It was either grovel at the military's feet, or be a good foot soldier. They don't just let anyone in the zeppelins."

"Why not send aircrafts?"

"They're stuck in the middle of a war with other countries," Yelena chimes in. "They sent a group of their Titan Shifters here six years ago, to break in, but they had to come back home. The mission was a failure. So now we've been sent here instead to investigate the situation in Paradis."

"We have someone on the inside, back on Marley," Onyankopon says. "That's how we knew where to go and what to look for."

"He's a Titan Shifter." Yelena's dark eyes take on a shine. "He's like God."

"Zeke Jaeger?"

Yelena tilts her head in his direction, all traces of impassioned zeal gone. "How would you know that name?"

Hanji shoots Eren a look of warning. They're not in the boardroom this time. There is nothing to protect. If they're going to work together, they need a commonality outside of basic diplomacy. "He's my half-brother."

Yelena stares at him. "Are you fucking with me, kid?"

"No, I'm not."

She scoffs. She's still looking at him. "Prove it."

"My father, Grisha Jaeger and his mother Dina Fritz. He'd be twenty six, ten years older than I am."

"So, you're done a little reading."

Eren stands up. "He commands an intelligent Titan, covered in fur. He can turn humans into Titans and command them. He said he'd come back for me one day." Eren glances at Onyankopon and the other soldiers. "Did he send you?"

Yelena stares at him. "Either you're the best liar I've ever seen or you are his brother."

On the lift, it's a tense descent to solid ground. "What the hell was that?" the Captain asks him.

"She knows where Zeke is. If I can convince her I'm on her side, we'll have a better idea of—"

"Jaeger," the Captain says sharply, "she's not your fucking confidant. She's a zealot willing to do whatever she deems necessary for her cause. All you've proven is that you'll barter our intelligence to gain her favour. She's not going to give us jack shit if you play your hand so easily."

Eren stiffens.

"There will be time to corroborate our information with theirs," the Commander says tartly. "Don't give them everything we have."

Mikasa's grip tightens on his forearm. Eren bites his tongue. No matter how many years pass, they'll always be at the same impasse. A year ago, he would've argued. There's no sense in it now. He can visualise the outcome in his head without a Reiss's touch.

XI.

Kneeling atop the Wall, the sun-lit field spans out below them. The cord bites into his wrists where he strains fruitlessly. He cannot clench his fists, what with the gauze around his knuckles. The skin has since begun to itch, caked with dried blood. Packed earth around the bottom of the Wall ensures he won't die from the fall itself.

Zeke must be with his grandfather by now. God knows what he's been told about his devil-sympathising mother and father. The same easy lie that stopped working when Faye never came home. Unlike Grisha, Zeke's desire for acceptance borders on obsequiousness. Zeke has a clean record. Zeke is a dutiful patriot through his father's pointless need to atone. He's a standout grandson but it won't bring Faye back. It won't redeem anything. He has become worse than his own father. A misguided attempt to protect his progeny that was only a tool for his own flagellation. Tears prick at his eyes, unshed.

In the chapel, his father would have always injected himself and killed the Reiss family for Eren's sake. Whether he calls out to his son or to his benefactor, there is no difference. Just as he would have always eaten Kruger and failed to save his sister. Just as Eren would have always transformed to save Armin.

Sgt. Gross kicks the man opposite over the edge. He falls and begins to scream before he implodes into a three metre Pure Titan. Beside him, Dina shudders and grits her jaw.

She is kneeling in the same place he'd stood with Armin and Mikasa a few mornings ago. He's so close that he could reach out and touch her trembling shoulder, but the memory would not change. He steps through moments in the lives along the chain of inheritance because they have already happened.

As Sgt. Kruger comes up to her, he holds the syringe to her nape. She finally turns and looks at him. Tears track down her cheeks but she's still as beautiful as the day they met.

"No matter what happens to me," she says, "no matter what I become, Grisha, I'll find you."

The boot connects with her back, and she's falling forwards. The Titan is begotten before it hits the ground. Sgt. Gross takes the moment to light a cigarette.

His chest tightens.

He is laying on his stomach across the canopy bed. A pair of svelte hands pause on his naked back then move away. "Sit up, please."

Even when she commands him, she's gentler. As if it will make up for everything. A lapse in her control, the fleeting relief of being held down and wielded. When he meets her gaze, there's tension in her face, the soft curve of her jaw. A private battle is waged as she averts her eyes.

"I'm going to be married soon." Eren goes still. Historia's face is difficult to read, but her tone is stilted as she moves away from him, towards the draped window. "The Commander-in-Chief assumed you would object to my position as inheritor. It was his wish to shut you out of this matter completely." She's looking right through him. "Given that we were unable to capture your half-brother, this is our only recourse to accessing the Founding Titan's power."

Eren stands up. "What I said in that meeting, I meant every word. I never wanted you involved in this." He grits his teeth and looks away, at his clenched fists. "You should have told me. I could have stopped this. I would have—"

"You'd agree to sire an heir?"

Eren bites his tongue. He'd have tried his best to talk her out of it. Even now his mind shouts that there must be a different way. If this Founding Titan within his blood is so powerful, what's to say it cannot move the very foundation of Paradis with her hands to his back? Why endanger Historia for a fruitless scheme?

"Historia," he says, "I'm going to win this war. You won't have to go through with this. I'll wipe our enemies off the map if that's what it takes."

"Don't throw your life away for me." She glowers at him, but her voice is uneven. "Think about what you are proposing. I could never command you to declare a war in my name."

Creeping dismay pulls at his gut where resentment falters. He finds himself drawn to her and takes her hand. She tenses, but doesn't push him away.

"It won't come to it." He runs his thumb over her knuckles. In all the glimpses of a possible future there is one concurrent certainty. She will never believe this while he is alive, but there's no point in dissuading her now. "I promise you."

"Talk is cheap."

He's seen past the fascia that was Krista Lenz, and she's peered into his own mind where he lacks the capacity for self-reflection. It would be effortless to wound each other. As long as they're sharing the blame, there is no impunity. In this moment, she's not a queen and he's not the harbinger of Paradis's destruction. He kisses her knuckles, the inside of her wrist, and her breathing changes.

"Is this what you want?"

Her mouth thins. "My duty as Queen has very little to do with what you or I want, Eren." She chews on her words before raising her eyes to him, vulnerable and true. "But I'd rather the child be yours than someone else's."

His old man didn't have any trouble. Dina, the Titan that ate his mother, wasn't injected when she had Zeke. One way or another, inheritors of Ymir's power always seem to end up devouring their own progeny. His chest tightens with the thought of her dissected, chained underground, awaiting her consumption. Sentiment twists into a churlish envy.

To spare himself further implications, or any reminder of his father's first wife, Eren lays her down and kisses her cheek as she takes a breath. Mouthing along the smooth skin of her throat. Historia tastes a little like salt, incense. Bitter in the back of his throat if he lingers too long. He runs his palms under her skirts until she intones, "You should undress."

He gets to his feet and does so, watching the progression of her fingers upon buttons and lace of her underclothes. He focuses on the warmth radiating from her. He'd assumed the stress of what he must do would make this difficult, but it's not the case.

Historia, no longer a controller but an equal, gestures to the stays along the back of the chemise and mutters, "Help me out of this, would you?"

When at last he runs a hand along her naked waist she settles back against the pillows with a slow exhale as he kisses a slow trail down from throat to breasts and below.

She's reaching up to bury her fingers in the pillow behind her. He's already hard and so he slowly presses into her. Bracing himself for a flash of memory or interruption, but there's nothing. Just Historia, trembling beneath him as he reaches over to support the small of her back.

He pulls back about halfway and thrusts. Her jaw sets, sucking in air through her teeth. Her eyes are glossier than they were a moment ago. He notes the slow heave of her breast, her fingers buried in the pillow as if resisting the temptation to touch his cheek. Uneven breaths rebound against each other's faces.

"Keep going," she implores, and so he does.

Their sweat cools and dries, sapping the room of an illusive warmth. Historia grants him use of her bathroom.

With his hand on the plain brass knob, Eren turns back to glance at her. She's sitting up, knees to her chest. There's something vacant and disquieted in her expression he cannot place and doesn't try to.

The room is smaller than her bedchamber, but no less ornate for royalty. White marble walls and a sink, an iron tub. He turns on the water, steaming. The sound of the water from the open faucet echoes off the walls until he turns it off. Submerges himself, scrubbing. He'll heal. In the tub with the water up to his chest, his skin pink and stinging. Breathing hard despite the lack of exertion. Pain is just a reminder that he is alive. He is not a monster. Not the enemy of humanity.

Whenever Historia lays her hands upon him, there is a glimpse of the path forward. It is always the same outcome, and each time he expects her to remark upon it. To recoil from his body as though burnt, tears welling in her eyes and unable to speak for the sheer inexorable horror, but she never does. He must accept the possibility that there are some fragments that he can see, while she cannot.

There's always someone else ahead of him, or above. From an icon to a repository of past lives, he's never been much good without a conduit to channel his will. Always putting his trust into the hands of another. Whether they live or die, the culpability falls back on his shoulders. It never gets easier as much as numbing.

A child by the suicidal bastard of the 104th Training Corps and the forgotten bastard of the Reiss family. Maybe that's why she fed into his frailties. Heir of Ymir, his mind supplies, and his teeth grit. Such is the burden they share, the old pull of blood.

Every glimpse into the Founder's past lives has come under her guiding hand. Eren has never interpreted her role as receiver—trapped in the same dilemma as her father; birthing children to devour their parents and uphold Karl Fritz's armistice. His childhood paradigm of black-and-white solutions has been touched by epiphany, but at the heart he remains an idealist.

He gets dressed without looking at himself in the mirror.

Historia's hair is down. She's seated at her dresser, working her fingers through it in slow, languorous strokes where the brush will not suffice. It's grown past her nape, the regulation for ODM gear, to the middle of her back. Such rules do not apply to a queen. Eren has never considered this side of her. All the girls he can name are soldiers.

"You should focus on your duties with the Scouting Regiment, for the time being."

"Is that what you've told the Commander?"

In the reflection, her eyes harden. A counterpoint to her tone, soft and practised from all her years playing the role of a docile farm girl to spare her family's pride. "When I have need of you, I will call for you."

XII.

Captain Levi is standing on the other side of the door. Usually the task of escorting him falls to one of the junior officers, interchangeable from one to the next. The Captain does not speak until they're in the carriage travelling en route to Trost. "Hanji's told me there won't be any meetings for a while." Eren says nothing, staring out the window. Nobles go about their lives in double-breasted suits. Children and women in day-dresses. The streets are clean. There are no corpses to be collected by the Garrison. When it rains, the gutters do not overflow with hemic fluid and feces. "We've put a lot of faith in this experiment, Jaeger. Do you think that's wise?"

Eren glances up. "This is the best chance we've got at understanding what the enemy is up to."

"It's been a week," the Captain says, "so what, exactly, is the problem now?"

Eren stares at a mother and child, hand-in-hand. "It's not always clear. Only flashes of what is going to happen."

Levi scoffs. "So what, you're impotent?"

Eren flinches, "It's not—"

"I don't give a shit about the technical details," the Captain says. "These sessions are a courtesy the Queen has agreed to, in the interest of gathering intelligence. It's your job to make sure you aren't being pushed beyond your limits. You're not a goddam martyr."

Eren sits, allowing his emotions to simmer rather than burst out. He used to be so childish. Quick to flare up. That was only months ago, but it feels like the span of a lifetime. There's no longer a point in hot-blooded, circular arguments that convince nobody of anything. Silence fills the space between them. Midday light streams through the curtains, the Captain looks unsure. To excise Eren from the shell of his Titan is one matter. There is no cutting him loose from his own synapses, no calling him back from the endless void of inheritance dredged up by noble blood.

At HQ he Shifts and practises his hardening techniques against the Thunder Spears. He manages to keep half of his jaw intact, and deflects a direct blow to the Titan's nape, but it's difficult to react. The body is smoking and riddled with holes. He's barely standing by the time Hanji calls quits ten minutes earlier than usual. He's still conscious once he exits the Titan, so he's pulled into Hanji's office for a debrief.

She does not comment on his sub-par performance. "How are your sleep cycles?"

"Can't sleep well."

"The Queen was insistent you be given a rest period in regard to these memory sessions. With respect to her wishes, and your health, I complied." Hanji stands up on the other side of the desk and walks over to him, scrutinizing. He keeps his shoulders straight. "These memories are liable to put psychological stress on you. If it's affecting you to this degre, I think it would be best for you to abstain until further notice."

His guts coil and twist. He swallows a mouthful of saliva. "Commander, I'm fine, really."

Her expression sets. Neither accusatory nor overtly concerned. He's never considered Commander Hanji as one for easy conversation. She's often focused on her work. It's a lot easier to confess to a neutral party than to a childhood friend. She's not as difficult to read as Commander Erwin. "I have to prioritise your well-being. So you'll be working with the other Scouts as usual until I receive word from the Queen."

She walks back over to the desk and takes out a small journal. "That's not the only reason I wanted to speak with you. You haven't had any new memories for a while, is that correct?"

"Yes, ma'am." Eren glances at what she's writing but can't make out her messy scrawl. "They're not usually distinct, so I haven't noticed if anything repeats. The only ones I can differentiate are my father's and Eren Kruger's."

"Perhaps you're thinking too hard about the task at hand?" she muses. "You've had situations in the past when you couldn't transform, for example. It could be similar to that." Eren shrugs. It's worth believing even if he can't convince himself. Hanji taps the pen against the table. "When you remember something from a past life, does it happen unconsciously? Or do you have to concentrate on a certain thought or feeling?"

"No, it's usually immediate."

"Does it happen only when Historia?"

He hesitates. "The mission in Ragako. When Bertholdt and Reiner were trying to get away and the Titans got to them. One of those Titans was the same one who killed my mother. Mikasa and I got separated from the other Scouts in the confusion, and—" he runs a hand over his face "—Mr. Hannes died trying to buy us a few more minutes. It was going to kill me and Mikasa next, and so—I don't know, I punched it. I wanted to tear it apart. There was this flash when we—when my fist connected. All of the Titans stopped moving, even Ymir and Bertholdt and Reiner. I knew somehow without looking at them. But I wanted to tear it apart, and the Pure Titans all went after her." He folds his hands. "She—was trying to find my dad."

Hanji looks at him closely. "She?"

Eren flinches and looks away. "She was—I saw her, in my father's memories," he whispers. "She was his first wife. She got—sent to Heaven because she was colluding with an Eldian Restorationist. Marley found out." He gesticulates to the desk. "It's in the journals."

Hanji nods. "Dina Fritz. Where was she when she was sent to Heaven?"

"Over by that dock to the south of the island. We were just there a few days ago."

"Could you describe that memory to me?"

He tells her about Eren Kruger and his father, sitting on the edge of Paradis's southern dock. After Sgt. Gross stopped screaming, the Titan who used to be one of Grisha's old friends stared up at them, chewing morosely.

Pure Titans usually have some recollection of what they have lost. Inside every Pure Titan, every Aberrant, there is an Eldian trying to get back home. It's as if their individual wills are all connected at a source that no man can touch or identify with a naked eye.

Commander Hanji brings up a few examples to corroborate. Around the time Ragako was lost, a solitary Titan was found collapsed on top of Connie Springer's childhood home. Springer would swear up and down that it spoke. Dina Fritz went searching for her husband in Shiganshina and found the progeny instead. Eren can pinpoint several of the Titans in Trost to respective Eldian Restorationists who were sent to heaven twenty five years ago. But all of them have since been cut down.

Hanji looks at him with a shine to her working eye. "Who would have guessed you'd ascertain such a vital piece of intel from these memories?"

Should he be truthful? How to explain that, during Historia's coronation, when he kissed the back of her hand, he saw a vision of the Walls crumbling to dust. Thousands of Colossi breaching the shores of a country hitherto unknown. The image of himself, buried in hemic tissue, grooved scarring along his jaws and spine, deep enough to score the bones. Afterwards, when he touched his face and found only unbroken skin and a cold clench in his breast, he couldn't convince himself it was only a dream.

Eren says, "I don't seem to have much control over which memory arises."

She pauses to scribble in her notebook. "Three months ago, we had no idea there was a world beyond Wall Maria. If it wasn't for your father's transcriptions, and your confirmation by his memories, we would be no closer than we were five years ago. You've given us a lot more to go on than you realise."

Before he's dismissed, Commander Hanji hands him a journal. Eren hesitates to take it, and she says, "It's all right. I have a few spares. In the event a different memory comes to you, it would be prudent to document them as it happens."

He gets to his feet. "Thank you, Commander."

XIII.

The seasons change. Marleyan ships begin flooding into their harbours. In a year, in two, they will assimilate as civilians under the guise of diplomacy but their customs, their foods and dialects, will always remain foreign.

There's talk among the military brass of sending over Paradis's best for the sake of diplomacy. The better to keep the peace as well as corroborate Eren's memories. The Commander-in-Chief has granted Hanji's request, at any rate.

Some of the expats talk of peace, like Onyankopon. They think in the short-term. They'll only learn to live alongside each other in tolerance. Orphans flood the poorhouses, thanks to Historia's push for reform. The underground is going to be hospitable by 858. The Military Police has its hands full.

A redevelopment scheme is of little use to Eren. But for now, thanks to Historia, the men running Mitras have no choice but to adopt a more transparent policy. The press is free to reveal the truth about the nature of Pure Titans and the thousand-year war without censorship.

"Only because they're allowed to," Floch Forster says with a scoff. "You think they're really free? Civil unrest is all but inevitable. All it takes is one disaster. Then war breaks out. The Marleyans and their dissenters get shoved into the underground or rounded up by the military police and executed. It would be another mass-culling, just like the operation to "retake" Wall Maria."

Floch is from the 105th Training Corps division. He's eager for reform as much as retribution for Paradis, and has latched onto the Scouting Regiment as a means of achieving this goal. There's an arrogant streak beneath his sense of duty that turns Eren's stomach. Nobody from the 104th is keen to speak to him.

Armin says, "It's been corrupt for decades. Changing the direction of a regime doesn't happen overnight."

"Unless your military has got an army of guys like you," Yelena motions towards Eren, "this island is pretty S.O.L."

Eren and Armin exchange a glance. Yelena scoffs. "Would either of you be soft on a Titan?" she asks. "Would you let it live because it's not hurting anyone in captivity?"

Eren grits his jaw. Her slow-dawning smile is answer enough.

That evening, through the bars, the sky turns blood-red in the light of the setting sun. Sleep evades them, so Armin visits his cell and reads Eldian novels to him. This week, it's The Turn of the Screw. Eren lays his head on his shoulder and follows the rhythm of Armin's voice without really listening.

To receive the Progenitor is to resign oneself as an interloper. Illusions of choice and culpability are for those who do not endure the gift of omnipotence. Even if one could avoid their fate, the Progenitor would simply imbue itself into a different host upon the previous one's expiration. It has no lungs, cannot drown or be destroyed. It drifts along the abyss of its creation, like something unfinished. A single life or millions extinguished can only prolong the inevitable.

"When I put my hands on your back, what comes naturally to you?"

At the desk in his cell, there's a message on the paper for him:

874 - Another batch of prisoners sent to Heaven. Contact in the Marleyan military expressed concern that too many Marleyans are wont to begin rounding up their Eldian neighbours.

The handwriting is nothing like his own scrawl. It's too precise.

"Armin?"

Armin stirs in the dark. Eren must have gotten up, careful not to disturb him. Now he's sitting here. There's no point he can recall in between the moment before this and the present.

"Armin," he hisses, turning as Armin's wide eyes find his in the dark, "I need to show you something."

They look over it together by the lamp, Armin jotting half-a-page's worth of observations in his personal notebook. "Perhaps it's simply a consequence of your brain attempting to rationalise an influx of stimulus from your subconscious." Eren stares at him. "In other words, it is possible your emotions and memories are mixing with the memories of the past and creating false ones." He shrugs. "I would definitely bring this to the Commander's attention. I imagine Historia can give you an idea as well."

Eren rolls his shoulders. "Yeah. Maybe."

XIV.

The Queen has decreed a railway system be implemented to ensure faster travel between the Walls. Eren spends myriad afternoons hammering nails into earth along with the other Scouts. In the evenings they ride back. None of the other Scouts ask what he has been up to, but they're careful not to exclude him.

There was a simplicity to the lie imbued into them as children, eking out their days as the last remnants of humanity. Child soldiers in the eyes of their superiors, assuming roles they could only comprehend in terms of duty. Despite the Attack Titan's strength, his unflinching tenacity, he cannot swallow the world itself whole. He'd rather die than subject the ones dear to him to his own ruination. Their faces are all he has left.

Without the conduit of a guiding hand, the silence roars in his ears like blood. It is no longer a comforting lull. He has tasted death and decay. He pieces together some semblance of identity among the whole, clings to purity. An easier time, when his only concern was killing as many Titans as possible, when he would've asked Annie to marry him. Sure, they'd have to wait a couple of years. But it was possible then, shiny and idealistic as the rest of his unfounded dreams.

The old lie is the better part of him, the one that attends training with the other soldiers and speaks when addressed, while the truth lies squirming at the bottom of his gut like an overgrown maggot he cannot burn away or starve.

His demeanor wears on his allies.

"Don't you care what happens to you, anymore? What about Mikasa, or me, or anyone else you care about?"

"You don't have to change the subject. I've heard it all before."

"The Queen won't live forever," Jean presses.

"You think I don't know that?" He's had enough of all of them for one day. "I've got four years left. There's no point in thinking beyond that, unless another Titan eats one of us, which is close to impossible."

"I don't know what else to do," Armin says abruptly, and then he keeps talking. "I don't know if there's anything I can do to reach you. Mikasa's worried sick, she can't stand to see you like this. The Captain thought it'd be best if you were given a little space, after what happened."

Eren scowls."The Queen isn't going to ask for me again. We're wasting time with this documentation and this goddam railroad when we should be over there, finding out as much as we can about Marley."

"We've got allies," Jean cuts in. "Hizuru and those Anti-Marleyan soldiers. We agree on that front, surely." Eren looks at him. "If you feel so strongly about this, why don't you volunteer to be part of the negotiations?"

"Marley is run by scum that think we're less than human. The rest of the world contents itself with that lie, and Marley's people are too busy self-flagellating to think twice." His teeth bare. "They're a defective strain that should've been eradicated back when Karl Fritz was alive. There needn't have been a war to begin with."

Jean doesn't flinch but he's gone pale in the light of the setting sun. A shadow passes over Armin's face. He won't look at Eren directly. Connie and Sasha flinch when he turns his head, but he's not looking at them.

"They've made up their minds," he says. "If we don't strike first, they will not stop until we are all eradicated."

"But you don't know that," Sasha cuts in tentatively. "Not for sure. How could you?"

Eren leans back against the cart. He cannot rebel against the very concept of his own mortality. It is a moment set in stone, long before he ever possessed the means to conceptualise it. He cannot find fault in his father, who looked away from the truth the same as Kruger, each man after his own selfish approximation of the same goal. Its resolution is never outright stated.

If he cedes, it'll be all for nothing. No one in this cart, in all of Paradis, deserves to share in his fate. It's his and his alone.

XV.

That evening, Mikasa comes along and he lays his head in her lap like he's a kid again. Commander Hanji has been in a flurry of meetings alongside Historia, contending with Marleyan diplomats, but promises she will get back to him about Armin's notes and how they compare to his father's journal. The Captain probably told her enough was enough.

There are certain truths in life you take for granted until you reroute into your deceased stepmother and your father, torn apart under your own jaws. Some things never meant to be discovered, but once they are unearthed there's no burying them again. Zeke must've been born out of wedlock. His parents were already in love, so it was serendipitous.

"How are you sure they were already in love?" Mikasa asks.

"He's smiling in the photographs. I don't remember him doing that with mum."

She tries to smile but she just looks tired. "You'd know better than I would."

Lately he's been too weary to record. The next best thing is to recuperate. But his mind races, with glimpses from the past or a future that might be. It's intangible at times, leaving only the impression upon waking.

It's not something he can talk to Mikasa about. She has enough on her plate without him confirming all of her unspoken worries. In a sense, there's no harm in letting her dote on him a little. It used to get on his nerves, having to keep up with her when he ought to be the one looking after her. But it's the only sense of peace he can give her. He stifles down his own insecurities, cursing his previous self for being so bullheaded.

While Armin is assuming the role of Hanji's second in-command in a diplomatic sense, it's not as if Eren can confide in him either. More often, when Eren looks at his childhood friend, he sees flashes of another persona. Tics, mannerisms. Every time Annie's name comes up, Armin gets a little flustered. Eren has never heard him talk much about Annie before, outside of her Titan's abilities and the question of how she obtained Marco's gear. Armin has never expressed a serious interest in girls to begin with.

He's tried to bring it up to Mikasa before, but she doesn't have much to say. Probably she just doesn't know what to say, least of all about the soldiers who turned traitors.

As far as Mikasa seems to think, Annie is just the girl in the rock. They knew her in Academy, but she joined the Military Police. Then she was revealed to be the Female Titan, and we failed to capture her. Reiner and Zeke must have thought she wasn't worth saving.

As long as they're alive, he cannot rest. Whatever lies in their hometown, be it Marley or elsewhere, Eren has to see it with his own eyes. His half-brother's promise, however vague, is something he can hold onto. Same as the key, the basement. There is always a new goal to strive towards.

Eren hasn't let himself think about the dungeon in Stohess since she was first moved down there. Between Bertholdt and Reiner's betrayal, Historia's father, the civil war going on in the interior, there has been little time to worry about a single defector in the greater scheme of things. She never seemed that close to anyone, despite Bertholdt's outburst on her behalf. The look in his eyes, when Armin spun that lie, the way his whole body flinched as if it were him being vivisected instead, is a shadow of the same one Eren catches now and again. A stranger's persona in his best friend's body.

Perhaps this is a fitting punishment, to never be rid of her, Bertholdt and Reiner by proxy.

She is still in the crystal, as far as he's been told. Armin visits.

In dreams she worms her way into his head as a simulacrum. His faded recollection—an impression of warmth, no callouses on her palms. The bruises on her shins that healed too quickly. The patchwork of bruises from the ODM harness, gone in a day. With an understanding of her true nature, there's commonality.

There is a distant memory of broken noses that did not steam away. Knees that scraped and scabbed over. A busted lip, the taste of iron that did not burn in the back of his throat when swallowed.

In the void of his dreams there's no key against his breast. A starless expanse before him. They've sparred so often he's checking for bruises when he wakes.

A ghost, at least, cannot betray him. They're rotting away together, mind and body. What he would give just to hear her speak. It is enough to hold her, to tell her things he's never told anyone. That he cannot bear the thought of outlasting his companions. He languishes that his destiny is to be reborn in the body of another child. Hers, then, is stagnation. A fate worse than rebirth and consumption. He laments his lack of power, despite his part in Paradis's accomplishments.

XVI.

Sitting in the mess hall next morning, shoulder to shoulder with Armin. The mess of potato-and-meat akin to viscera. He closes his eyes against the flash of imagery but his mind refuses to settle. He can taste the copper-and-salt. He's taken a chunk out of his forearm before to see if that would help, but he just vomited it back up. He isn't hungry now.

The barrel of the Mauser C96 juts against his forehead. She will pull the trigger if he doesn't call her bluff. Even in that case, he'll be able to transform.

He pushes into it until he's standing over her, looks into her eyes. There's no fear. Just the same callous certainty he adheres for all of his enemies.

"How's Annie?" he asks. His voice comes from a dead throat.

"She's where she always is." Well, it's not as if she's going anywhere. Armin frowns. "You've not asked me in a while. I just..."

Assumed you didn't care much. That it was too painful to look your old mentor in the eye and see the enemy. Figured you'd take it as well as you did Reiner and Bertholdt's betrayal, now that the sheen of sentiment has worn down into impartiality. Mentor or friend, she's the same as the rest when you really get down to it.

With hindsight, there is only his faded recollection of clues—the lack of callouses on her palms. The bruises on her shins that healed too quickly. The patchwork of bruises from the ODM harness, gone in a day. An understanding of her true nature leaves room for commonality. What Eren would give just to hear her speak again. He cannot bear the thought that he might outlast his companions, that his fate is to be reborn in the body of another child. He's no doubt that she would understand. There is a distant memory of broken noses that did not steam away. Knees that scraped and scabbed over. A busted lip, the taste of iron that did not burn in the back of his throat when swallowed.

"It's all right," Eren says. "I know it's important to you."

"We've tried to reach her before. The crystal is impenetrable with our current weapons."

Eren flexes his hand. "I've gained more abilities since then. So have you. What better time is there than now?"

"She's not used to a lot of people visiting."

Eren bristles. "Armin, she's asleep. It's not as if she can actually hear you."

Armin pauses, frowning. "Enough time has passed that we can paint her as a victim of circumstance. Just following orders, like Reiner and Bertholdt." His mouth thins. "There's no telling what she'll do if we could get her out. As far as I'm concerned, there's no harm in leaving Annie where she is. As a Titan, you can already do much of what she can. You've learnt from her. The only advantage in disturbing her now is as a bartering chip with Marley."

"Marley won't leave its own Warriors behind," Eren says quietly. "They'll reinherit the Female Titan even if they have to dash the crystal to pieces." His hands curl into his palms. "If Ymir were here, she could break it with her Titan. But she's gone too."

Armin draws back, a furrow in his brow. "I don't understand what you're getting at."

His childhood friend. Or the enemy, flustered. Like upturning a rock and exposing the crawling, festering insects that scatter in the light.

"You never even mentioned her before," Eren says. "You never visited her, before you ate Bertholdt. Now you can't stay away from her."

Armin's jaw sets, but he says nothing.

"You're compromised," Eren insists.

Armin scoffs. "Listen to yourself. I wasn't the one who begged Commander Erwin to reconsider before our operation to capture the Female Titan. You couldn't transform. You hesitated, and it cost us a source of intel. You flew into a blind rage against Bertholdt and Reiner and got yourself captured until we managed to catch up with you. If anyone here is compromised—"

"—I was a kid then," Eren snaps, "but then I had to grow up like anyone else."

XVII.

Behind closed eyes, he's being carried. The smell of his father's jacket imbues his senses into a temporary relief. Perhaps he is only dreaming. This moment will go on until he has to open his eyes, and he'll be back with Mikasa and Armin again. It's selfish, to stay in this moment and cling to what he once had. His father promised they'd visit the basement.

He's already lost his home and his mother. He cannot go through that again. He will not allow it.

"Dad," he says, his voice congested with sleep.

His father's breathing changes. He grips Eren tight enough that it's uncomfortable and he opens his eyes.

"Where's Armin?" he mumbles.

"He's safe," his father says. "Mikasa is with him."

The sky is clear above the trees, what little he can make out. The moon shines ivory through tiny holes in the sky. A chill seeps beneath his clothes, incurring gooseflesh. The smell of soil and foliage. Are they still in Wall Maria?

"Mom's dead."

His father stops. Lowers him to the ground. "Hannes told me what happened." His expression is difficult to read, like when he's about to tell a patient he's done his best but there's nothing that can be done. "I was with a patient," he says. "I only learnt what had happened after the Wall fell. I took a boat afterwards and caught up to you."

His father isn't making any sense. The harbor was closed off after Wall Maria was breached.

The chapel. Bodies crushed like insects across glossy crystal. Grisha on his knees, begging for repentance that will not come. The taste of blood and salt.

Grisha's hand reaching, clasping the boy's arm. Wars are not won through wishing, but making the choices that no one else can. One day, if Eren lives long enough to discover the basement, he'll come to appreciate his father's sacrifice.

The key. The boy stares avidly at it, desperate to assign a purpose to his father's mania.

"If you want to save them — Armin, Mikasa and the others — you must master this power."

Grisha is younger, nursing his bloodied, mangled palms.

"Make a home there," says Krueger. "Love someone within the Walls."

Needle presses into his arm with a gentle sting. The boy tries to pull away but his father won't let him go. His eyes gleaming as he smiles, a rictus grin. His voice trembles and it's difficult to tell if he's on the verge of laughing or crying. "One day, you'll be able to rid the world of this curse."

No.

Get away.

Get away from me.

The boy is begging for help but his father says nothing. He clutches his forearm. Blood drips down the puncture. Crumpling to his knees with a high scream. His skin on fire. The skeleton explodes around his body, called up from his will alone.

When the transformation is complete, the titan regards its maker with something close to accusation before it reaches down crushing the life from his body.

Two streams of consciousness run parallel. One is severed.

A glint among the brush. The boy reaches for it, staring at the pair of cracked, singed spectacles.

There's a gap in his memory, like a book missing half its pages.

His skin, beneath his clothes, feels sticky. It isn't sweat. His heart pounds so fast it starts to hurt and he can't move his fingers well, almost dropping the spectacles. He folds them up into his fist and shoves them into his chino pocket. Taste of copper on his tongue. The air is blessedly cool. He feels raw all over like the world's worst sunburn.

His cheeks are wet. When he touches them, there are grooves hewn into his skin like rivulets. Steam rolling from the decaying skeleton behind him. His arms and legs, singed pink with heat. Humans don't make steam so it must be from whatever that animal is. Was.

When he swallows, his stomach heaves. He doubles over on the grass which bites into his palms and retches. It looks like spit but it's pink.

He's so tired. He curls up on the ground and starts to shiver.

In the barracks he jerks awake, tears stinging his eyes. The key burns against his breast when he gropes for it. Armin snores lightly above him. Eren focuses on the sound itself. The crickets beyond the window. Moonlight bleeding through the clouds. His throat constricts. He turns on his side, away from the window and screws his eyes shut.

XVIII.

A week before they're due to leave for Marley, Hanji pulls them aside.

Annie's crystal has been compromised. The soldiers on post insist that it just gave way. Like a rotting piece of fruit or a chrysalis, she melted out of her self-made prison. Semi-conscious and unresponsive, they've been carefully monitoring over the last forty-eight hours. She's lucid and able to understand when spoken to, but weak.

With any luck, they'll be able to exonerate her and bring her along to Marley without a hitch. It'll take nothing short of a miracle. Ever since Erwin's death, it's been pretty straightforward to convince Darius Zachary to concede.

Eren says, "Where is she being held?"

Cell door scrapes against stone. Ringing silence. Eren steps through, carrying a tray. Bread and soup and a glass of water.

"I don't know what you think this will accomplish." Her voice is hoarse, eerily familiar after all this time like he's stepped right into a waking dream. Her clothes are damp and cling to her frame. She's been taken out of the crystal a few days ago. "If I were in your place, I'd have done what was necessary a long time ago."

"Don't be stupid," Eren says tersely. "I'm not here to kill you."

"You're the one with all the power," she says vaguely. "I might as well go along with whatever you say."

Eren can't find the energy to remain angry with her. Exasperated, but not angry. She's just cornered and frightened and saying whatever she can to lower his guard. His only power rests in their shared condition. Two child soldiers, forced into someone else's battle. He's here to offer her an out.

"Maybe that's how you feel now. I want to understand why you did everything."

"I didn't have a choice."

"You didn't," Eren says. "That was before. We've come a long way while you were imprisoned."

"Armin came to visit me sometimes. He'd read to me. The guards would make fun of him, because they thought I was sleeping and couldn't hear." Her shoulders hunch. "Maybe it was just Bertholdt talking."

Eren stiffens. "He told you—?"

"He broke down and told me whatever Armin had to do. Or Bertholdt had to. Armin was never interested in me like that before." She looks at him implicitly. "Was this your idea of exacting revenge? Do you want to make me feel as terrible as you did?"

She isn't making sense. "Why would I—Annie, I don't want revenge."

Her laughter is a strange bark of a thing, harsh and high. "If I go back home, they'll just have someone else inherit my powers." A twist plays on her mouth. "Reiner used to forget himself. He was meant to be our leader." Her teeth bare. "I'm just a scapegoat."

"So you'd rather die as a pawn? Just another vessel for Ymir?"

"You don't get the final say in what happens to me."

She doesn't seem to understand. "I can keep you safe. They won't touch you. No one will hurt you."

All at once, her expression falters. When he comes near the bars she shrinks against the wall. Her eyes scan the space on either side of him. With her arms bound, she can't transform short of biting her tongue.

"I never hated you," he says. "I couldn't."

Broken pine. Failure hums in his blood, in each laboured breath. The enemy looks through one unblemished eye, and when he raises his shattered fist, there's the same question he'll avoid for years within his own reflection.

The next blow might crush its face in but it won't resurrect Petra. Or Oluo. Or Gunther or Eld. There is nothing to do but avenge them.

A name is forming in his mind, but all that comes out of his mouth is blood that isn't his. It's stained down his shirt and jacket and the Captain will be less than pleased that it's not going to evaporate.

HIgh-pitched keening rebounds off the walls. He has heard it before. The last thread separating him from his fate is begotten and destroyed in a single breath.

Something crumples to the floor. Eren catches a glimpse of the tattered jacket. The insignia on the shoulder. He attempts to back away but instead stumbles over the sticky dungeon floor and kicks aside broken glass. Catching himself against the nearest wall, he turns and looks again as if anything will change.

Eren throws up.

XIX.

It takes two soldiers to restrain Armin from entering the cell. Mikasa detaches from what is in front of her. She's no stranger to death, nor taking a human life to spare her comrades. The MP elites in the interior, the degenerate who molested Armin, the would-be trafficker to save herself and Eren. For the good of humanity, there are times that a man needs to be cut down.

Armin has been inconsolable since he found Eren, and all anyone can do is wait for him to accept the truth. Eren never visited the crystalline tomb. Eren defended Annie once, to spare his own vitriol. His feelings have been holding him back from duty. It's not an enviable position to find oneself in. Mikasa doubts she'd be any better if it was her holding the blade to Eren's nape.

But Annie is—was—still the enemy of humanity. The traitor that was in over her head and sacrificed everything to keep quiet. She'd been given a choice and rebuked it for the sake of whatever pride or power she fooled herself into having. Whether she expected to die or not, it hardly matters. When Mikasa cut her down from Wall Sina, eye-to-eye with the enemy, she was never able to figure out if it was fear in the Titan's eyes or just surprise.

Eren is the one who spoke of her so highly. Her fighting techniques. Her conflict. Her nature as a frustrating enigma he would never be able to grasp and gave up trying. To Armin, Annie may as well have been just a name in a ledger until Shiganshina. Mikasa is no fool. This change in both of them has been sitting in the back of her mind, but there's never been a time to bring it up despite Eren's grievances. His feelings for the enemy got in the way before. If not for Mikasa's intervention, Annie would have escaped.

Since Trost he has never struck out at her or anyone else. He would never lay a hand on anyone he deemed an ally. It stands to reason he's decided Annie must be an enemy. As much as it might pain him to accept, the boon of humanity's persistence is greater than one traitor. Just as his impassioned vitriol for Reiner and Bertholdt has cooled into resignation, there's no more room to hesitate. His disgust for Marley has transposed into a viable target.

Mikasa runs this over in her head, but can't make it stick. Armin's horrified scream is fresh in her mind. So is the smell of blood and bodily waste and Eren vomiting over himself. He's been catatonic ever since they shoved him in a holding cell at gunpoint.

"He's beyond reason," the Captain says, pacing a path along the floorboards in Hanji's office. Looking to the Commander, he adds, "There's only one way this can end."

"I'll do it," Arlert supplies.

The Captain and Commander both look over at him as if they've misheard. "That's out of the question," the Captain says. "We already have one Titan out of his mind. We don't need another."

"It's undeniable that his Titan's abilities have surpassed Annie's," Hanji says in a slow and uneasy tone. "And likewise we've learnt more thanks to his memory inheritance. She was given numerous opportunities to share whatever information she might have possessed, and she remained uncooperative. It's going to be a much easier sell during the tribunal that Eren agreed to eat her under those conditions. That it was a difficult choice but ultimately undertaken for the sake of—"

"Commander," Arlert says in a shaking voice, "there weren't any guards. You sent him in to see her—did you guess what would happen?" Hanji says nothing. Arlert's expression twists as he looks at the Captain with barely contained disgust. "You let Annie die."

Hanji holds his gaze. "I swore that I would do what was necessary as the Commander of the Scouting Regiment. Annie lived and died as an enemy to humanity."

"Do you hear yourself?" Arlert cries. "All you can talk about is how to spin this to the top brass!"

"Arlert," the Captain says curtly, "that's enough." There's been a nagging question in the back of his mind, ever since escorting Jaeger back from the Queen.

Because Jaeger hasn't been keeping up his diary, Hanji's been poring over his notes in her spare time. She and Levi both agree that keeping Jaeger busy to occupy his mind is better than letting him ponder. The Queen's influence has unlocked a phenomenon that might as well be madness. It's spiraled, and it is grisly, but not out of control. Arlert must understand that much. It was his idea to bring the notebooks to Hanji in the first place. It was also his suggestion to Levi that Eren might be losing track of himself, much like the blackouts during the stress of repetitive Titan experiments. That it would be prudent to monitor him from here on out.

The Arlert that pulled Jaeger from the Titan's shell in Trost and talked his way into convincing Leonhardt to assist is a far cry from the one that balks under the possibility that she is expendable. He's not as stalwart as Jaeger and not stupid enough to argue directly, but there's a seething glint to his eyes that the Captain hasn't ever placed before.

Ever since the retaking of Shiganshina, the bond between Arlert and Jaeger has fractured. Initially it was simple to chalk up to maturity. The pair of them have been forced to reconcile their worldview in the face of such a monumental lie. It's only natural their idealistic natures have sent them in different directions, and Ackermann would try her best to keep them from shattering completely. But neither she nor the Captain is equipped to deal with whatever fucked up phenomenon is unfolding before their eyes.

Arlert is dismissed. Silence falls over the room. Levi halts.

"I never expected him to kill her," Hanji mutters, as if he is not there at all. "Certainly not like this. He's always been adamant that she be protected."

"If Leonhardt were to be exonerated, she'd not be free." Levi squares his shoulders. "We'd just as quickly use her as an inheritor than sacrifice Jaeger or Arlert." He pauses. "Like a mother who poisons her child before his father comes home and hacks them both to pieces. If you could spare someone a worse death, you wouldn't hesitate."

Hanji recoils.

Levi finds his attention drawn to the notebook. Used to be Moblit's but, as Hanji told him once, there's no sense in the waste of blank paper when more pressing matters are at hand.

"He's lost control before. Who knows if he'll drift into another memory and try to take a chunk out of someone else?" He looks at her as though expecting a reproach but Hanji readjusts her glasses with a weary sigh. "I'll handle it. Arlert's compromised, and Ackermann is too close to both of them to remain objective."

"No. We'll take him to court," says Hanji coldly.

"Because it's what Erwin would've done?"

"Eren has had these episodes before," Hanji says, "and it didn't drive him mad. We've sentenced our own soldiers to death, we've lied to the people. There are few lines left to cross. Sticking to any semblance of protocol is the difference between preserving humanity and abandoning it, even if we must discard our own. What's another dead enemy in the face of attaining that knowledge which will protect Paradis?" As soon as she is done speaking comprehension washes over her face. She seems to shrink slightly into her chair, removing her glasses and passing a hand over her face. "It was all so much more straightforward," she says, "when they were only mindless Titans."

Levi nods. He turns away so that she may find her composure. "I'll speak with the Queen."

XX.

Later as she sits in the carriage with Captain Levi, Mikasa's throat tightens with the memory. Her reservations towards Annie do not preclude a lack of sympathy. What Eren chose to do defies her understanding.

Nothing he's been saying makes any sense, as of late. He's receding deeper into himself and no matter what she says or does it only seems to upset him. But there is a certain tone that he gets, sometimes when she cuts him from the Titan with hemic tissue clinging to his face, or from a waking nightmare, and the only way to help him is to lead him out gently. She can't shock him with the truth just yet. She might not get him back.

Armin is not much better. The eyes in his head don't belong to the boy she grew up with for five years. They're closer to the eyes within the hands of the Armoured Titan, imploring his enemies to understand the indefensible as Mikasa cut her way through.

She's so far apart from the both of them now. Or maybe the nature of every Subject of Ymir is to cast aside their humanity in pursuit of some greater, lofty ideal. It's never sat right with her from the start and now, she's borderline convinced that acceptance will mean losing them permanently.

The Captain must be thinking about it as well. He's close enough to get a few words out of Eren, more than she can manage. She used to resent him more often, back when they didn't understand one another. She never figured someday it would be the inverse.

Historia is already waiting for them.

"Something's happened to Eren," Mikasa says. "I believe it was after he stopped seeing you. I don't know the cause. But I'm sure that this change in him is connected to his actions." She closes her fists and opens them again. The Captain's eyes drill into the side of her neck. She swallows dryly. "Is there any record of a Titan Shifter becoming influenced by someone he or she had eaten?"

The Queen seems to freeze in place. "My half-sister," she says, so quietly Mikasa almost doesn't hear. "Before the massacre, Frieda was the original inheritor. And sometimes, she would… it was like she was speaking through someone else. As a child, my father told me it was mercury poisoning but she didn't have any dental implants of the sort. I always wondered why he'd lie about it. And—her eyes would change colour. He told me too that it was only a trick of the light."

Mikasa strides over to the desk. "Why did you keep this to yourself?"

"I did not anticipate what Eren would do," Historia responds coolly. "The question you should be asking is why Armin hasn't followed suit?"

"Evidently you suspect something has been done to him," the Captain says. "Can it be undone?"

Historia draws herself up to her full height. Despite Mikasa towering over her, she doesn't seem in the least bit intimidated. "He's safer in a cell than he is in my presence."

The Captain scoffs. "So he'll be a prisoner of his own mind? That's no loss."

Historia's mouth thins. "Would it be merciful, to have put him in front of a firing squad and be done with it?" She inclines her head. "I imagine Armin would have to become the sole inheritor. And that's too vast of a burden for any one person."

"But not too much for Eren?"

Historia shakes her head. "It is the inevitable fate of each inheritor who takes on the Founding Titan's will. My father wrote about it while he was still alive." She winces. "I… I've read through plenty of what he had to say about Karl Fritz. And if you read it too, you'll see that what I'm doing for Eren is a courtesy. If you don't want to believe it, then I can't force you to. But I've passed along everything I know to the Commander and Captain in the meantime." She inclines her head. "If I would have known what would happen, I would never have agreed to let him near her, Mikasa."

Mikasa turns around. Her gut instinct tells her that she can't hear another word of this but she's not going to walk out on the Queen. She turns in spite of herself, to where Historia is silhouetted by the midday sun. "How long has the Founder's power been passed down?"

"Since before I was born," Historia says with a twist to her mouth. "They wouldn't have entrusted that power to a bastard. But it hardly matters. Even if Eren was lucid, he wouldn't be able to utilise the Founder's true power outside of a momentary flash. It would have to be a Reiss."

The prospect of Eren's death looms all the way back to HQ. Another inevitability, only there's no time to grasp it while they are alive. Mikasa refuses to sit by and accept this as a certainty. There must be another way to save Eren. His reasons for acting are not beyond explanation. If the Queen is right, if there's a chance Eren has trapped himself within the confines of his inheritance, it's Mikasa's job to draw him out. Not only for the good of humanity. It was the last thing she ever promised Aunt Karla and she'll be damned if she allows Eren to slip away for the sake of upholding some meaningless treaty.

Mikasa is the first who's agreed to watch over him, because Armin won't listen to reason and the rest of the Scouts can't bear to look at him.

He says nothing. He's just sitting on the bed. Annie was the enemy, but Mikasa cannot take any pleasure in the circumstances of her death or what it's wrought.

She couldn't regenerate, Commander Hanji surmises, because she'd spent so much time healing her wounds. Trapped in the crystal her body atrophied. When she was kept shackled in a cell, much like Sawney and Bean, she grew weaker. The prospect of Eren sensing that weakness, using it to his advantage, is a point Hanji brings up and no one acknowledges, save for the Captain.

The boy nearly-a-man who was pulled out of Annie's cell and the boy she's put so much faith in are disparate.

Floch is the only other one who volunteered. Mikasa has no strong feelings towards him. Eren and he never seemed to get along, but that was before Eren ripped out the enemy's carotid artery with his teeth and nails.

"It's me, Eren."

Her voice wavers. She grits her teeth.

No response. Her pulse throbs in her head.

"Eren?"

He raises his head. He doesn't acknowledge her. There's life behind the eyes, but something missing. That aspect of Eren Jaeger does not exist. "She's safe," says Eren quietly. "I made sure of it."

Mikasa takes an unsteady breath. He doesn't flinch. His shoulders hunch.

"I was running out of time," he whispers. He's rocking uneasily back and forth on the bed. "I didn't have a choice."

Her throat tightens. She shoves down her weakness. If he'll talk to her, she has a chance at getting through to the Commander. "What are you talking about?"

Eren runs his hands through his hair. His entire body rigid. Their eyes lock.

She steps back, struck by the illogical notion that he's going to tear the bars off and rip out her throat.

His breath snags. He's staring down at himself. He starts to tremble.

"I had to do it," his voice cracks, jumps an octave. He screams, "They'd kill her if I didn't do it, don't any of you understand," but there's a wretched desperation in his voice and all she really sees is the ten year old crumpling on the cobblestones, powerless to save his mother.

Marrying Karla is an easy decision. She keeps a clean house and she's pleasant company, treating him no differently outside of the bar than inside it. She keeps a steady rapport with colleagues in Shiganshina's corner market. The man who found him, Keith Shadis, is busy in the Scouting Regiment.

When the wave of tuberculosis strikes Shiganshina, Karla is understanding of his absences. Many quiet dinners where she'll excuse herself and go to bed. Despite her exhaustion, she.

The influx of patients necessitates he'll be working overnight. Hospitals in Wall Maria are notorious for being understaffed and underfunded. Civilians live on top of each other in narrow streets. Here, he is only a doctor. Staff alongside him are amicable but indifferent towards their circumstances. The situation in Maria has always been slanted in favor of the inner Walls. If the Titans were to get in, there would be less mouths to feed and less posturing for the middle class in Rose.

The girl's hair clings to her face. Waterlogged and pale and speckled with bruises.

Of course, he has to work.

That night, when he got home she was quiet as usual. She's talking about her day. With. He nods.

"Are you even listening?" Her golden eyes bright and shimmering. "All the women will talk about now are the robberies between Trost and Yarvil. If not that, it's this damned illness. Each time you go away, I wonder if it will be the last time."

"I didn't—" realise you were so deeply affected "—consider how you felt. I'm sorry."

Karla emits a sound between a laugh and a shudder. His cue to do something. He stands and walks slowly around the table to touch her forearm. She turns her head into his breast.

She says she's sorry. That she's only worried for him. She wraps her arms around his waist but he never leans into her touch. A child will not salvage this marriage, nor make up for his lengthy absences.

He's always so warm, she whispers. Like a furnace.

After Dina, he cannot bring himself to care for another person so deeply and intrinsically. Karla is her antithesis; headstrong and optimistic. Karla need only be aware of his role.

Now that he is well-established, he says, he feels as though he is in a better position to provide for them, as a family.

It's their duty to eke out an existence within these walls, this house. Something to look back on and be proud of. Not for humanity's sake, but for their own. Life should go on inside Paradis, no matter how many Titans were on the other side.

He stroked her hair, watching her sleep. He told her, some half-true variation of the story that ate at him every day. That his sister was found by Military Police. That his parents would marry her off to some wealthy businessman, if not the officer who raped her and fed her to his dogs.

Dina would flinch away from him. So blinded with his desperation to mould his child into the perfect double-agent, he never saw her as anything more than a means to an end.

Without the burden of zealotry, Karla only absorbs what she is told. She listens until his words dissipate into pinched silence. He was only a boy, she says. Overpowered by an officer, it was not his fault. He shouldn't carry that guilt for the rest of his life.

A memory seeps into his mind's eye outside of his control. Her hair is longer, kept in a bun. Her features, not allowed to grow into a sallow beauty. She's wearing the old uniform from her hometown, the one he's only ever seen in flashes. Her armband is yellow where his father's was grey—Eren Kruger's a hemic red. The name Liberio forms on his tongue.

When he opens his eyes he can taste the copper-and-salt.

In the cell, there's nothing to stop him from hitting the wall, something tangible that cannot be harmed. His wrist judders against the unyielding stone; sharp, violent pain that pierces the skin. His knuckles come away bloody, hissing with steam. The flesh and sinew knitting back together, the bone aligns itself.

Pain brings him to his knees, his vision flashing. He retches but nothing comes up. The cell door scrapes against stone.

He clutches his broken hand, flinching at her voice, the rising pitch of distress. Mikasa only sees a wound that needs fixing. She's strong enough to lead her own division, but she cannot protect him from his own mind. She crouches down next to him, doesn't touch, hovering close enough to feel her breath wavering on his cheek.

"Eren," she says in a small voice, "I don't know—what I'm supposed to do to help you. The Commander." Her voice shatters. If he were to reach out through the bars and touch her she'd be shaking with sobs. "I don't know what to do anymore."

They are on the opposite end of a long tunnel, and he's still clutching his hand and looking up at the blinding light of day, too late to warn her of what's coming.

XXI.

The sky is blood-red in the light of the setting sun. Mikasa is over in Mitras, fighting for the two of them. Even without knowing when or how the end will come to be, it remains inevitable.

Arms drawn over his knees, his body covered by a thin layer of sweat.

The door to his cell unlocks. A tall woman enters, brandishing a lantern. "Floch told me what happened."

Eren looks sharply to the boy behind her. Floch is simple-minded but not without his uses. Eager to get into Eren's good graces. If his comrades won't listen, if the Captain and Commander are busy with all of this planning towards an uncertain future, maybe the only way to move forward is a change of approach.

"The Captain seems to believe you have already surpassed Annie in respect to her Titan's ability. There was nothing to gain from your actions."

"Don't—" he seethes, because she's done enough, she's done more than enough, peeling apart his mind in ways he would rather not admit to anyone "—don't talk about her like that."

Yelena hesitates. "I don't know what you expect me to tell you. A formal apology on the Queen's behalf is hardly going to fix this." She sets the lantern down. "That's not why I'm here. There are routes to the mainland even from Paradis. The only way you'll be able to access the Founder's powers is to find your brother. And we just so happen to be in contact with him."

"I'm listening," Eren says, not taking his eyes off of Floch, who has not moved away from the door since Yelena began talking.

She glances back with a tsk and says, "Lock the door, Forster. He's not going to rip your throat out."

Eren's attention turns back to her as she has a seat at the table.

"Let's go over the plan."

XXII.

Footsteps creak across the open space. The flutter of breath against his unshaven jaw. A clammy hand cups the nape of his neck, nails crusted with blood that isn't hers. His eyes trace the serrated shape hewn into her jugular, and his breath sticks in his throat.

"What did you want me to do?" His voice croaks with disuse. "They were going to kill you. I couldn't let that happen."

Annie doesn't say anything, but then again she never does.

Three years ago it would've been difficult to imagine her as small or frail when he's seen her disarm Reiner. He's been on the receiving end of her blows and kicks long enough to hold his own. At nineteen, when he stands up, the top of her head barely reaches his sternum.

He reaches out to touch her face. Empty air.

In the belly of the cargo ship Eren wakes up. His muscles cramp. He's slumped against the boxes at an awkward angle.

His left eye prickles. Once he gets to the mainland, he'll have to fix it.

XXIII.

"As a child bride," Zeke says, "Ymir Fritz was kept as breeding stock for a king whom did not care for her beyond her inherent worth to him. The day she was bound to The Progenitor completely, she became more than a subject of Ymir."

Cigarette smoke wafts upon the riverbank.

"I must admit, I underestimated how far you would go to satiate your urge for destruction."

Eren says nothing.

"Subjects of Ymir must have the opportunity to inherit the Founder's genetic information. There is a living candidate in Historia Reiss, and her child. If one of these were to be injected—"

"That won't happen."

Zeke pauses in the middle of taking a drag. "You're not a Reiss. Nor a Fritz. So even if you were to eat the candidate, you wouldn't be able to use the Founder's power. Only a subject of royal blood will work."

"An Eldian's connection to the Paths cannot be severed with his or her death," Eren says. "So in that sense, it wouldn't matter who inherits the Progenitor outside of its intended use. It can never truly die, only delay the circumstances of its resurrection into the body of another Eldian."

Zeke's lip curls. "You've thought this through."

A month from now Reiner will fall to his knees sobbing quietly at his feet in the cellar of the tenement. The boy Eren has yet to meet stares from the wall, captive to his own execution. Eren says nothing for a moment, Wilhem Tybur speaking over them. When he leans forward to place his hand on Reiner's shoulder, the other man shrinks from the contact like he's been burnt.

"Look at me, Reiner."

The gash in his palm oozes against Reiner's unshaven cheek, the nape of his neck. He does not get up from the floor but begins to shake.

"I see you," Eren whispers. "I'm the same as you."

"Of course," Eren says, reaching for the crutch. "I won't get another chance like this. Why take it for granted?"

— FINIS —

[melishade]

Number 29?

This ask game

asked so far.

Some spoiler stuff for chapter 94

"Some benevolent god you are," Zeke spat at Primus. The titan shifter was sitting in the field of flowers, sitting down with his arms crossed. Zeke felt his eye twitch when Primus didn't respond to him. Instead, his transparent armor had surrounded his body. Floating around him was a multitude of blue orbs, not the colorful orbs that resided around his head. He could hear whispers around the deity, some of them sounding annoyed. No doubt at his continued presence. Meanwhile, Ymir had merely clung to Primus' leg, hiding from Zeke out of fear.

"You let Eren take the power of the titans!" Zeke yelled at him, "Don't you see what he's doing?!"

Primus still didn't respond, but he heard groans of annoyance coming from the orbs.

"Why aren't you acknowledging me?! Is it because you know I'm right and refuse to admit it?!" Zeke challenged.

"My, my, you are just so fragging bold." The energy around Primus buzzed with blue electricity, and he could see the remnants of a shield surrounding him.

"You seem to be fine with genocide," Zeke seethed.

"Oh no, it's not like you weren't advocating for genocide too," Primus mockingly reminded as the armor buzzed with silver electricity.

"It's not like you're offering a better solution!" Zeke shot back, "Did you give Eren a choice to stick to your morals?! Did you really not find another solution to the madness?!"

Primus didn't respond to that, keeping his attention on the orbs surrounding them. He transformed them into flowers before planting them into the sand.

"I bet Optimus hates your guts," Zeke spat out. That turned out to his mistake, as the transparent armor had turned blood red. The deity snapped his head back to Zeke, causing Zeke to crawl back in fear.

"You want an answer to your questions, right?" Primus demanded, "Here's the thing, Zeke Jaeger: you don't deserve an answer to my questions. You wouldn't even be able to handle the answers I provide. Because you have constantly stared into an abyss your whole life that you would not be able the handle that weight. With your resolve, it would crush you."

Zeke watched as the energy surrounding Primus turned back to blue.

"Be grateful that I am showing you mercy considering your life, and that I am even allowing you to maintain your body as of this moment," the voices spoke in unison.

Zeke stared at Primus with contempt as Primus returned to his task. "I'm not going to grovel at your feet for your mercy."

"I don't expect you to." Primus voice lost his base and bravado as he pulled an orb forward, and it transformed into a flower. Zeke saw Primus pour more energy into the flower as a soul appeared out of it. It formed and took shape until it looked like...his father.

Grisha rubbed his head as his vision came into view. He blinked and turned his gaze upward to see Zeke sitting in front of him. Grisha gasped in surprise while Zeke couldn't help but stand up and take steps back.

"What the hell is this?" Zeke demanded as he turned his attention to Primus. Grisha snapped his head back to see the deity and gawked at the sight of Primus.

"It...it's you," Grisha spoke in disbelief.

"Here's what's going to happen," Primus began as he walked over and stood in between the two, "Grisha, despite your improvements as a better father and man, you still treated Zeke horribly. Zeke, you have let Grisha's treatment of you fuel your rage and sorrow, and you wished to take it out on the rest of the world. So the two of you need to get together, discuss your issues, and come to an understanding."

"You think I would be in the same vicinity as him?" Zeke demanded, earning a despondent look from Grisha.

"Zeke, I understand if you don't want to speak to me-!"

"And I'm saying both of you need to resolve your issues," Primus interjected, "You're both dead. What resentment and regret do you have left to hold onto? This is the time to come to an understanding, because there is a chance you may never see each other again."

Zeke and Grisha both pondered what Primus meant by that, but the deity refused to elaborate.

"...I don't feel comfortable being in the same space as him," Zeke declared.

"If that's the case," Primus summoned another flower in his hand before another person manifested in front of them. Grisha stared in confusion while Zeke looked ready to cry at the sight of Ksaver forming before them.

"Ksaver?" Zeke's voice was wet with emotion.

"Where am I?" Ksaver questioned in confusion. Primus merely placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I control the Paths. I brought you out, and I need you to moderate their conversation to prevent any physical or emotional violence," Primus stated bluntly.

Ksaver gawked at Primus. "Excuse me?!"

(I'm just gonna leave it here for right now. I write anymore and we're gonna be here for a while. Anyway the rest of whatever is left is free game.)

[touyastearss]

Quid Pro Quo (Professor! Zeke x Student!Reader)

WARNING: age gap, professor-student relationship (reader is legal), manipulation, noncon, typical blackmail situation, smut, oral, humiliation

///

“This isn't good enough. See me in my office later, Y/N.”

A familiar shade of red stains the page as your essay is handed back to you. There's crosses thrown across the page and entire paragraphs circled in bright red, small, with barely legible notes scrawled beside them. You can't read them, but you don't need to. You know what they say. What they mean.

Your heart thumps against your chest. You want to cry.

— —

You wait until late in the evening. The last thing you’d want is for anybody to stumble across the two of you. The grounds are silent, save for the rustling of the leaves in the trees as you walk towards the old building, and there are few lights to guide your way. But you know the route by now.

The oak door gets bigger and bigger until it looms over you, rooting you to the ground as you allow yourself a minute, like every other time, to prepare. To leave, to argue, to run. But the cold of the wind pulls you from your trance. You have no choice.

You don’t knock. He’s expecting you. He doesn’t even look up when you enter, silent at his desk, the scratching of his pen the only noise in the room as he writes. His jacket is off, hanging from the back of his chair, and his dark tie hangs loose around his neck. It’s a complete contrast to his put-together looks throughout the day; pristine, perfectly ironed suits and a smile. Now the top buttons of his shirt are loose, and you can see the dip of his broad chest as he leans over his desk.

You clear your throat, stepping forward into the room a little further.

“Sir.”

He looks up at you, finally, nonchalant as ever as he watches you close the door. He leans back against his chest, watching you through the rim of his round glasses. They glint as he speaks.

“Y/N. Can I help you?”

You don’t know why he does it. Why he makes you come here, makes you stand before him and grovel at his feet, all while he acts oblivious. It’s so unnerving, so sick.

He raises an eyebrow, leaning back into his seat and reaching into his pocket. The cigarette he pulls out is the same expensive brand he always smokes. He places it between his lips, balancing it as he watches you, expectantly. You swallow the lump in your throat.

“I’d like to speak to you about my grade.”

You don’t miss the flicker of amusement in his eyes as you speak, but it’s gone quickly with a puff of his cigarette, the smoke clouding round his face. He waits a moment, like he always does, and then speaks.

“I’m afraid the grades you’ve received are non-negotiable. I can’t give out any special treatment, Y/N. You know this.”

He waits, silently. You want to cry. His gaze hardens for a split second and you know you’re keeping him waiting too long for his liking. He enjoys a game, but he gets bored quickly.

“Please.”

He doesn’t speak.

You hate him. You hate him so much. You hate your parents for making you attend university. You hate chance for its unfair ways. You hate the way he touches you. You hate yourself for letting him.

“Please, Sir.” Your voice breaks, a singular tear trickling down your face as you avert your gaze from his face. There’s no smile, just a cruel, satisfied smirk at the way your body recoils from him as the words pass your lips.

You refuse to look as you hear him stand from his desk, watching as he leather Oxfords get closer until they're right in front of you, and you can smell the lit cigarette.

“Don’t cry, Y/N,” he cooes, voice soft and quiet in the silence of his office. His rough fingers come to rest on your chin, turning your head to face him with mock gentleness. “Pretty girls shouldn’t cry.”

He’s so close. You feel trapped. You’re drowning in a mixture of his cologne and smoke, a smell you’ve scrubbed from your skin countless times before. His thumb strokes your skin gently, and his touch sparks goosebumps on your skin. He lets out a soft hum, as if he’s so horrifically torn by the decision he’s about to make.

“You're putting me in a difficult situation here, Y/N.”

He waits a second.

“But maybe I can make an exception for you."

One more.

"You’ll just have to do me a favour in return."

He speaks like it’s the most gracious thing. Like he’s some saint. Like he's not bullied you into this corner countless times before. Like he won't do it again. You want to scream. Instead you meet his eyes, ignoring the soft smirk that forms on his lips.

Your line comes out weak, hopeless.

“I’ll do anything.”

— —

He likes to take it slow at first. You don't know whether the drag of his hands across your skin is for your enjoyment or his. You could take a lucky guess. The minutes he spends touching your skin set you on edge, eyes flickering to the door as images of the two of you being caught flood your brain. The risk is high, it makes you sick. He loves it.

He likes to tell you that what he's doing is for the best. That he's so much older than you, that he’s so much smarter. Surely only a Professor could know what was best for their student? He whispers praise and filth into your skin and tells you that you’re so good for him. That you listen so well. Like a good student. A good girl.

He likes it when you're beneath him. When you stare up at him with teary eyes and a helpless look on your face as he sits you on his desk. He parts your legs forcefully to step between them, guiding your head towards him. You don’t want to react to the feel of his rough palms travelling between the material of your skirt to the top of your thighs, but you can’t help but gasp as they enter you, curling and prodding at your walls.

He likes your skirt to stay on. The way it falls across your skin when he fucks into you, the material creasing beneath his grip on your thighs. The wood of his desk bruises your stomach with every thrust forwards, his thick fingers gripping your tits through the material of your shirt. You leave with bruises that never seem to fade.

He likes your reflection in the mirror that he fucks you in front of. Likes the way your nervous expression morphs into pleasure as he has his way with you. The way fear flickers across your eyes every now and then as you come back to your senses, the way it’s gone with the light pressure of his thumb on your clit. Your body shakes in his hold and he can only admire how perfect you look as you take his cock. So cute.

When you’re on the floor, knees pressing uncomfortably into the hard oak panels as his cock pounds into your throat. Your nails dig into his thighs and your whines are silenced as you gag around him. His own grunts are always loud, and he lets out a deep, guttural groan as he releases into your throat, pulling out just in time to taint your skin.

He likes you to say thank you, afterwards. To pick yourself up and ignore the shake in your legs as he places a light kiss on your forehead. To leave without a word.

And to return, as always, the next time.

[nycbabyjoey]

From Chad to Charge

NSFW 18+ Only

Contains ABDL Content

Nicole blushed. She wanted to listen to what her date was saying, but she got lost in his beautiful blue eyes.

Nicole had matched with Zeke on a dating app and they had hit it off straight away. Ok, so Zeke wasn't Nicole's usual type - she usually went after tough guys. But, she had been burned in the past and she thought Zeke was cute. Plus, straight off the bat it was clear he was INFATUATED with her. His first messages skipped the usual flirts and pickup lines; he jumped straight to wanting to take her to dinner, offering to pay for it all, etc. It honestly came off a bit desperate, but Nicole had to admit that seeing the cute boy practically beg to take her out was pretty hot.

"So, what do you do for a living?" Zeke asked with a boyish smile.

"I'm a front-end developer," Nicole responded.

"Oh..." Zeke said. "Is that with, like... computers?"

Ok so he doesn't seem all that smart, Nicole thought to herself. But, maybe she liked that for once. She could tell this guy was eager to make her happy and it was only the first date! She could use a bit of a Labrador boyfriend. In fact - it was a bit rude to notice - but Nicole could see the bulge in the man's pants he was so excited.

Nicole took a sip of her drink before she began to dumb down her explanation. Before she got a chance to explain, however, Nicole was interrupted as a couple walked up next to their table. Zeke's goofy smile disappeared as the woman appeared to be upset with him.

"Tr- Trish?" Zeke asked nervously, clearly recognized the woman. "Wh- What are you doing here?"

The woman who Zeke had called Trish placed her hands on her hips. "That's Mommy to you, young man," Trish responded. "And I should be asking you the same thing."

Despite the tense situation, Nicole couldn't help but let a small snicker out. Mommy?? This woman looked the same age as Zeke, if not younger! Before Nicole had the chance to think about it anymore, the woman's frown turned into a polite smile as she extended her hand toward Nicole.

"I'm sorry, honey," the woman said genuinely. "My name's Trisha. I hope Zeke wasn't bothering you."

Nicole shook her hand, albeit confused. "Nicole," she introduced herself. "And no, he's not bothering me.. we're on a date. Zeke's not your... boyfriend, is he?"

Trisha cackled at the idea. Zeke began to sulk and slump in his chair the longer her laughter continued. After a few seconds, she composed herself, "No, no, not anymore," Trisha said while wiping away tears. "The boy is cute at first, I'll admit. But he's not man enough to be boyfriend material."

"Triiiish," Zeke whined in a pathetic high pitch. Nicole raised an eyebrow as the cute guy she had been talking to turned into a pathetic boy in her mind with just one word.

"Quiet!" Trisha snapped in an affirmative tone. "You're already in big trouble, mister."

Nicole marveled at the simple way Tisha had this grown man under her thumb. How did she do it?

As if to answer her question, Trisha turned back towards Nicole. "I'm so sorry. You must be confused," Trisha explained. "Zeke's not supposed to leave my house unsupervised. He's not supposed to be on dates. He's not a man. He's a tiny baby boy."

She slowly turned back towards Zeke. "And he's not supposed to be wearing his grown-up clothes."

"Trish, please-" he groveled pathetically. Trisha shot him daggers. "I mean, m- mommy, please!"

"Up," Trisha instructed. "Now!"

With tears in his eyes, Zeke stood in front of Trisha. To Nicole's surprise, Trisha began to unbutton his shirt.

Nicole marveled at the simple way Tisha had this grown man under her thumb. How did she do it?

As if to answer her question, Trisha undid Zeke's belt and unzipped his pants to reveal a sight that made Nicole gasp in amazement. Zeke stood in the fancy restaurant in nothing but an oversized adult diaper!

Nicole let out a chuckle in disbelief. THIS was the guy she had been into? She couldn't believe it! This pathetic excuse for a man let his ex-girlfriend dress him in diapers and keep him around her house while she went on dates with other guys! Trisha was right: this guy wasn't boyfriend material.

"I'm sorry the brat snuck away from me," Trisha said as Zeke whimpered in the corner. "It's impossible to find a sitter for the big guy."

Nicole paused a moment. Sure, the adult baby had completely fallen out of her graces. But, the control Trisha had over the man did turn her on. Zeke couldn't be a boyfriend, definitely not, but he would make her perfect little boy toy.

"Maybe I could babysit?" Nicole offered. "I'll take care of him and you can focus on your date."

Trisha immediately agreed and walked Nicole through the embarrassing tasks of man-baby care. Feeding, spankings, changing dirty diapers, changing CUMMY diapers. Trisha even displayed Zeke's freshly cummy diaper as Zeke clasped his hands over his burning red face. Nicole died laughing; the dude had cum himself in the first few minutes of their date. Trisha assured Nicole she could leave him in it until they got home as punishment. How pathetic.

So, Trisha and her hunky masculine boyfriend went on their way to their table while Nicole and Zeke returned to theirs under very different circumstances than before. Zeke now sat in a huge highchair with his messy diaper visible to everyone in the restaurant. When the waiter asked for their food order, Nicole ordered penne alla vodka for herself and dino mac and cheese for her adorable date.

"Nicole, please," Zeke begged pathetically. "I didn't meant to lie to you, but..." Zeke lowered his voice, as if that would save him any humiliation. "Tri- Mommy doesn't let me out of my diapers. I just wanted a girl to see me as a man instead of cooing at me like a toddler like Mommy's friends. Please, please, help me out of here! I'm a man, not a baby!"

Nicole had to tug on the hem of her dress. His pitiful rant turned her on so much. She grabbed a pacifier out of Trisha's diaper bag and stuck it in his mouth, giving herself goosebumps as she silenced her little charge.

"Uh-uh," Nicole teased. "No talking until the food's here."

Photo credit: @littlepeternappymonkey

Nicole watched as Zeke entertained his absent mind with stuffed animals and toy cars until his mac and cheese came. She got such a thrill as she took his utensils away and told him to eat his dinner with his hands, like a good boy. Making a mess in the process, Zeke sat there feebly as Nicole wiped off his cheesy face.

Trisha offered Nicole a ride to her house where she sat in the back with Zeke who was confined to a car seat.

Once the four got inside, Trisha asked if Nicole would change Zeke's cummy diaper while she went upstairs with her date.

Nicole lead Zeke by the hand to his nursery where he hopped up on his changing table as commanded. She untaped his diaper, revealing his sticky mess and its tiny, little perpetrator. She stifled another laugh.

"Awww," she teased grabbing Zeke's stiff member between thumb and pointer finger, wiggling it around like a little toy. "No wonder Mommy says you're not boyfriend material."

"Stop it," Zeke mumbled quietly behind his pacifier.

"Awww," Nicole repeated as she began wiping the man's private parts. "Somebody's grumpy. Is this the most action you've gotten from a girl in years?"

Nicole felt Zeke's cock harden even more underneath her wet wipe. She grinned. "I guess so, huh?"

"Oh god," Zeke writhed around on his changing table. "I haven't had sex with a girl in ages! Please, please, just - suck on it... or something!"

Nicole smacked his bottom to get him to stop writhing. "No, baby, that's what your diapers are for," she teased as she taped a fresh new diaper around his waist. "To catch all your cummy messes!"

Zeke threw his head back in utter frustration.

"Tell you what," Nicole said. "I'm going to go upstairs and join your Mommy and your new Daddy for some fun. But, if you're a good boy and don't make cummies while listening to our moans through the walls of your nursery... maybe Ms. Nicole will touch your little pee-pee for ten seconds. How does that sound?"

Nicole laughed as Zeke gave a hesitant nod whilst sucking on his dummy. She walked out of the man's nursery and walked toward the master bedroom. Sure, she hadn't found a labrador boyfriend, but at least she had a fun new babysitting job!

Photo credit: @diaperboyares

Hi friends, sorry for the brief hiatus! Summer vacation's over, but that means captions are back! Follow and reblog if you want to help support my writing. Good job following instructions!

[erenscherub]

chapter 4 | series masterlist | chapter 6

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐰 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞.

pairing: eren x fem! reader

chapter summary: a real life application of boyle’s law

warnings: implied infidelity, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of animal cruelty

word count: 3.0 k

When you feel numb and your fingers and toes are pruning, you decide it’s time to get out of the shower.

The first thing you do is scrutinize your appearance in the fogged up mirror for a couple moments. Your eyes are red and still a little puffy. Though you’d have to be pretty close to notice. You’re optimistic that if given just a little more time you can come up with a good excuse.

Time is clearly not on your side when you barely dodge the Masonite slab door, with a new crack in the middle, that’s falling off its hinges and towards you. Eliza’s head pops up between Mikasa’s legs. “Hi Momma,” she beams while her eyes scrutinize your form from head to toe. “Sorry for scaring you, but you were kind of scaring us. We just want to see if you’re ok. I love Grandma and Grandpa and Aunt Amanda and Udo and Disneyland, but school and Cyrus and Falco are here in New Hampshire and not California.” It’s really hard to stay mad at your three friends when they use your daughter to do the apologizing for them.

Her puppy dog eyes don’t work as well as you as they do on Eren. Yet, you decide to let this incident slide.

You’re lucky your daughter even forgave you for losing your shit and taking her with you the first flight back home after Eren missed the wedding anniversary dinner that he rescheduled twice. There’s only so much Disneyland can do to distract a child.

You let Eliza drag you to the master bedroom you share with Eren. There’s rose petals scattered everywhere and another bouquet of red roses wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine.

A note with Eren’s chicken scratch is tucked in the middle of all the flowers.

The same promise he made when you two started dating.

The same promise he made to you at the altar.

Eren doesn’t have a good track record of upholding promises.

You’re petty. Proud of it too.

After pulling on a hoodie and sweatpants, the first thing you do is use the Dyson vacuum cleaner in the linen closet to clear any trace of the rose petals. Gone. Just like any respect he seems to have for your marriage vows.

Then you tear the note to shreds before flushing it down the toilet. Just like all the years you’ve spent with him.

Afterwards, you open up the window overlooking the backyard. Eliza asks if it’s too warm in the house. It’s a good temperature.

Annie, Mikasa, and Petra all tell you that they’re willing to take a brisk walk with you outside for a couple minutes if you need some fresh air. You don’t.

You just don’t want to run the risk of running into Eren on your way to the kitchen trash can.

So you opt for throwing the flowers out the window. Just like any self-respect you’ve had for yourself by putting up with him for so long and for inexplicable reasons you don’t even know yourself.

Your efforts don’t make a difference in the end.

They never seem to.

No matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to either keep Eren tied to you or even successfully push him away.

Because against the advice of his family and friends, he is there outside the master bedroom door waiting for you with another bouquet of red roses with the same note that has a bullshit promise all ready to grovel on his knees for as long as it takes.

It’s been a long day. You’re trying to focus on the positives. Karaoke was great. Clubbing with Mikasa, Petra, and Annie was more enjoyable than you thought it would be. Zeke gave you a dozen of those Oreo flash-themed cupcakes.

Colt and his six-year-old brother, Falco, joining you this year was such a welcomed addition.

Eliza and Cyrus were only a year younger than Falco. Though you love how all three of them get along so well. It’s heartwarming that both started calling him their brother after playing with him for only four days.

Your three Cubs were nothing but sweet to you the entire day. Got to watch another brilliant sunrise with your Baby Bear. Eliza even helped Colt and Zeke make you breakfast this morning for “the best Momma in the world.” You admire how your youngest Cubs try to protect your oldest by covering his ears whenever an adult curses.

Your Cuddle Bear was only six years old. Still, Falco was so well behaved and calm even with all the chaos unfolding in front of him. He and Cyrus even made you a birthday card addressed to “the best aunt ever.” You were so proud of your two eldest Cubs for their great team work when negotiating with Zeke.

Even your Bubba Bear wowed you with his sincerity in offering up all the funds in his beloved piggy bank dubbed ‘Porky’ to repair the window.

What’s not so great is that Eren forgot your birthday because he’s busy being balls deep in his co-worker.

There’s so many good things that happened today.

Yet, you just can’t help yourself from fixating on the bad.

You’re just tired.

Tired of trying to hold yourself together. Tired of Eren still pretending to love you. Tired of never being enough.

You ignore Eren and you continue trudging towards the guest bedroom hoping to shut out the world for just a few hours.

Colt, Mikasa, Annie, and Petra are all protesting that you can’t break the tradition of blowing out your candles. Why bother? You’re pretty sure you’ve run out of wish magic. All the birthday, 11:11, dandelion, and eyelash wishes for Eren to either love you back or let you go haven’t come true.

Eren won’t shut up about how sorry he is and how much he loves you. Then he’s physically clinging onto your leg, preventing you from entering the guest bedroom. Not even Mikasa and Annie are able to successfully deter him from just shutting the fuck up for once in his life. He’s tugging on your leg, begging for your forgiveness because you just need to hear him out that he’s so madly in love with you and how he never stopped loving you and how he’s so sorry.

This gives Eliza a window of opportunity to rope in both Cyrus and Falco to hype up the antics of her kicked puppy routine. Your three Cubs are now also clinging onto you.

They’re tugging on your hoodie and grabbing onto your hands and trying to drag you down the stairs. They’re insistent that you need to open their presents because ‘they’re the best gift givers out of all these losers this year!’ Eren may have messed up. ‘That doesn’t matter though because presents are always fun!’

Why the fuck is even Levi joining in with another steaming cup of chamomile tea and Zeke with another one of those delicious ass Oreo cupcakes?

Actually, they’re the most helpful people at the moment.

You take the tea and have a few sips to help restore some semblance of peace.

Then you give the cupcake to the kids to momentarily distract them with the opportunity for more sugar. They let go of you so they can focus on splitting the desert evenly between the three of them.

Two of your problems are resolved. And you’re also very proud of your Cubs for sharing.

The third problem is still looking hopeful that you’ll let him hold you tight in your master bedroom tonight and let him apologize further in the form of make-up sex, instead of isolating yourself in one of the guest bedrooms.

When you find $100 in the pocket of your hoodie, there’s a little hope in you that some wishes do come true.

You hand it to Cyrus to put in the swear jar later. Both Cyrus and Eliza’s eyes widen in surprise as they both hurriedly clamp their hands over Falco’s ears.

Problem three is also indirectly taken care of when you promptly tell everyone, “Fuck off. I’m in a mood.”

They’re shocked that you cursed in front of the kids. They’re shocked that you don’t want any form of physical affection. Not a hug from your friends. Cuddles from your Cubs. A hair ruffle from Zeke. Kisses from Eren. Or even the very rare hand on the shoulder that means “Hey, you’re kind of ok,” from Levi.

You know they’re just trying to make you feel better after you were obviously crying in the shower earlier.

You know that in the long term, you’re going to feel absolutely horrible for this behavior.

You know that the way you’re acting isn’t smart, mature, or even borderline reasonable.

But in the short term?

Yes.

Goddamn in the short term, it feels pretty fucking good to slam the guest bedroom door in all their faces.

It’s midnight when Calista Forrest-Springer bounds into the Jaeger household with a bounce in her step and in her curls followed by an exclamation of, “Hello, hello everyone. And an especially amazing hello to my favorite angel!” She pauses to survey the room when she sees no sight of you.

You’re not cuddling with or showering kisses on any of the faces of your Cubs- Falco or her son Cyrus or your daughter Eliza. You’re not sitting in Eren’s lap with his arms wound tightly around you as he blabbers on and on about how much he loves you. You’re not resting your head in Mikasa’s lap as you take a power nap or ask her about her day. You’re not sitting right next to and hanging onto Annie’s arm while you two sit in the corner and she talks in hushed tones about her past or her feelings or whatever shit the Ice Queen actually opens up about. You don’t have Petra’s hand between both of yours as you gush about some new dessert place or as she cracks jokes about her friend Oluo mimicking her husband. You’re not leaning on Colt’s shoulder with a blanket wrapped around the two of you. Zeke is here and you’re not linking arms with him as he ruffles your hair and pesters you with the nicknames Sonic or Speedy or Kid Wonder.

The air mattresses, spare blankets, and extra pillows are all out as customary for the movie marathon. The console table has been moved to a faraway corner of the room, but all the presents look untouched.

Everyone looks grim and glum like the time Calista accidentally ran over the neighborhood stray cat, colloquially referred to as Mr. Boots.

It must have been you that was run over today.

She swivels on her heel to face Eren and places her hand on her hips. “What the hell did you do to (Y/N), now? I honestly don’t know why such a precious thing like her is married to someone like you!” Eren rolls his eyes at Calista’s words as he finishes scratching down a note to you to include in another bouquet of roses he managed to purchase at the last minute at the grocery store.

As Zeke wipes his glasses with a handkerchief, without missing a beat he replies, “He takes advantage of her crippled self-esteem to make her believe that she will never be able to do better than him.” Eren snaps his head up immediately to return his brother’s words with a glare.

“I get it! I screwed up,” Eren huffs. “I love my wife! I know I’ve been doing a crappy job of showing that I love her! I know I messed up by forgetting the birthday and anniversary and not being there for her enough when she had the miscarriage-” Eren’s spiel is halted by Petra suddenly fisting the collar of his shirt to drag him off the recliner.

The miscarriage was news.

After you called in sick to work twice, most of them thought you were going to announce that you were pregnant at this birthday party like you did six years ago.

Levi writes out a check for $300 and places it in the swear jar.

Eliza and Cyrus now use the couch’s throw pillows to shield Falco as best as they can from what is to come.

The purpose of the swear jar was to make sure Eliza and Cyrus wouldn’t pick up the vulgar language casually thrown into conversations by Jean and Eren. A good 92% of the time, Eliza and Cyrus are mild-mannered and well-behaved.

No one anticipated that the other 8% of the time that they’re cruel and brutally honest little shits is all because their normally sweet Aunt Petra had helped expand their creativity in expletives that night.

It’s 12:52 when the tally of repairs to be completed in the Jaeger household now reaches a total of three as Annie takes her turn to kick down the guest bedroom door. It’s only been 2 hours and 17 minutes since you told them to fuck off. That’s not even remotely enough time for you to feel remorseful for your words or to be even a fraction calmer.

However, 3 minutes and 38 seconds is more than enough time to attempt to barricade yourself inside by pushing the six drawer oak dresser, the eighty pound office desk, and the three big ass filing cabinets in the room to slow down anyone’s attempts to drag you out of it.

Eren’s a hoarder. Your husband is obsessed with keeping irrelevant scraps of paper of everything from receipts from a fast food place he ate at ten years ago, to parking tickets from when he was in college, to holding onto the grocery lists you gave him last year, to hard copies of Excel worksheets listing pros and cons for every major decision you made starting from a decade back to last week. His obsession with holding onto paper copies of fucking everything has snowballed with the addition of his chaotic filing system.

The shit he keeps hanging onto has always been a nuisance. You’re now a little appreciative of your husband’s habit as now he physically has to face and tackle the crap he’s held onto for years if he wants to move forward to you.

Through the gaps in the objects you’re able to find Annie’s ice blue eyes as you call out, “Look, I know you all mean well. But I really just want to be alone right now. Is it possible that you could just let me sleep it off?” You take her response as “No way in hell” as she lands a judo kick against the dresser.

You can tell they’re frustrated with how much crap Eren was able to pile into the guest bedroom. It’s why you chose this room specifically.

You know that you’re only slowing them down. You love your friends. You really do. You know that they just want to comfort you and help you process your sadness. You know that they only have the best intentions and just want to help you shoulder the burden of your heartache and grief.

Boyle’s law describes that for an ideal gas under conditions of constant mass and temperature, there is an inverse relationship between volume and pressure. As you decrease the space in a container, molecular collisions with the walls occur more frequently. This in turn, results in an increase in pressure.

It’s a self-destructive cycle to bottle up your feelings. The more heartache, self-hatred, and grief you try to keep locked away inside of yourself, the more the questions of the what-if’s, the why’s, and the how’s bounce around the corners of your brain, stealing away sleep and confidence. There’s only so much space that can accommodate the increasing amount of sorrow you bury until the walls of your heart experience strain.

You always hope that maybe if you don’t talk about it, that maybe if it’s one of those things that you bury so deep inside of yourself, that maybe eventually you’ll forget.

Yet you still remember how you felt when you discovered Eren’s affair just like it was yesterday.

Combined with the disappointment that he wasn’t there for you when you miscarried, or your anniversary, and forgot your birthday. There’s only so much space that can accommodate everything you try to lock away into yourself.

There’s only so much you can take.

There was already a limited amount of space with your insecurities that Eren was way out of your league. There’s never enough space to accommodate the expanding anxieties, doubts, and anger, resulting in strain. You don’t notice that the pressure gradually builds up day by day, until one day there’s just no more room to keep everything locked away.

Everything you tried to bury builds up enough pressure until the container you locked it away in explodes. Everything you tried to bury will eventually be pushed out into the open.

You’ll be able to let yourself be vulnerable one day. One day, it will probably be a cathartic release to not have to stifle any sobs and to be able to grieve openly over the beginning of the end of your marriage. One day, your friends will be sincere as they hold you and let you cry it out until your wails temper to hiccups and then level off to sniffles. They will probably be patient and offer nothing but an open ear and words of comfort even if you repeat the same spiel of how you don’t understand how he could do this to you and why he couldn’t let you go earlier.

When will it end that you realize that you don’t have to shoulder everything by yourself?

You decide tomorrow. Right now, you’re not ready.

One day, you’ll be able to let yourself be vulnerable in front of all of them.

One day, you’ll tell them and allow you to pull you out of the waves of misery, self-hatred, and frustration that’s threatening to drown you.

One day, you’ll accept that it wasn’t your fault as your loved ones hold you tight while you cry it out in their arms.

One day.

Just not today.

A/N: R.I.P. Mr. Boots. You’re not even real but I’d still fight Calista even if I’m not a cat person. Thank you for all of your kind words in both the comments and asks. Reading those really make my day

Taglist: @pichara @izukine @bbylime @emepe @wakatvshi @ihatelettuce @unicornlover25 @didiyogo @6sakusa @trumpettay @littlemochi @rein4r1 @lukepattersin @rubesque

[scinnahunbun]

Me: *redesigns Zeke so he looks more distinct from other bullies*

Overview

Okay so Zeke as a character always bothered me not because of the things he did but he’s only there as the absolute bare minimum of a villain. His whole personality is just stock bully character when I think he had a lot of potential as an antagonist as well as being part of the top 10.

So here’s my idea on how to make him interesting without changing the plot or ’redeeming’ him.

Make Zeke more calculating from the start. Show him actually being charismatic instead of beating the shit out of people willy nilly. Like I would love to see him have a way with words and be gaslighting people from left to right which is why he has a following in Wellston. Like "hey, I'm not actually the villain but you’re the one who fucked up so you deserve the punishment."

I want to see him earn the title of being a snake. I just think that showing off how much Zeke has intimidated the rest of the student body makes it more satisfying to see him getting beat up rather than just “HE HURT MY WAIFU/HUSBANDO”

His ability ’Phase Shift’ would work well with such a manipulative shit of a character. I like to think that we rarely see him personally beat others and he’s usually just ’negotiating’ and having his minions do it for him. However even so, people seem to be too scared by his prescence.

This is because the only few times he had were absolutely sadistic and hospitalizing people but only a few so they could serve as a reminder of what happens if he isn’t nice. This could also make him more of a foil to John in a way as well as make things ironic when he was suddenly hospitalized during the Joker arc.

Make Zeke highkey unhinged. Make him absolutely dangerous despite his lower power.

Scene rewrite (sorta)

Here’s how I would change a scene with him. Instead of beating Sera because her powers are now gone, have him try to make an offer with Seraphina first in exchange for him protecting her and John in her powerless state. (Like maybe some kind of leverage against the Royals or have her admit his superiority.) Have Seraphina refuse and maybe even call out Zeke and then have Zeke beat the shit out of her to set an example to other students for defying him. Have it be brutal. Maybe it’s one of his points of vulnerability where he just snaps and becomes too emotional for the first time.

Motivation

Give him hints of insecurities, maybe from feeling inadequate compared to the Royals, not to redeem him but for his character to make a bit more sense with motivations.

His main motivation is him asserting as much power as he can towards the Boy’s dorm and everyone lower than him to cover his envy towards the other high tiers. To keep this sense of control no matter what.

Safe House Arc

John would initially recruit him just because of the following he has and his way of words towards less powerful people. While Zeke is a bully, John acknowledges that he’s useful. However, this is when Zeke regresses. No longer the cold and charming elite tier but John’s grovelling minion. Like he still keeps his cool at first but we slowly see him becoming more desparate for any sort of power as he looses trust with John and Cecile. He was to still be in control but no one takes him seriously anymore. We slowly see his incompetency and how weak he has become, this former shell of a once powerful student regressing into a child yelling for attention.

We almost feel sorry for him. Almost. But it’s more satisfying than anything.

[pleasantanathema]

Graves into Gardens | Reiner Braun x Reader | Chapter One

Chapter One: Living Ghosts

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader 

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: Modern AU, spoilers up to season four, slight manga spoilers (only by including characters met later), captivity, mentions of violence, enemies to lovers, angst, and eventual smut (don’t worry, it’ll come sooner than you think).

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Here’s chapter one of my multi-chapter series for Reiner— chapter two is already ready!

A very special thank you to @present-mel​ , and @whats-her-quirk​ for encouraging me to take the plunge and create this monster (I’ve got a lot planned for this fic and I’m so excited for it) 💕

Masterlist | Next Chapter

           You were having that same dream again, the one where you felt like you were dying. Your shoulder ached with the memory of bursting pain, but there were warm hands there, holding you, pressing down to keep the bleeding at bay. You could never recognize the face, never identify the voice, your ears still ringing from the sound of a piercing gunshot. It was always the same; a delirious memory warped into a nightmare. Sometimes the dream ended in the hospital, other times with you staring at the inside of a coffin, or in a shallow grave.

           But this time, you were waking up, eyes flickering open to meet harsh fluorescent lights and clinking, cold handcuffs around your wrists.

          A white-hot sense of dread pooled over your body.

          You knew where you were. You knew how you got here. And suddenly, you wished you were dreaming again.

          You could still see it all, still hear the deafening blades of the helicopter whirring above you. None of your team had expected the Marleyans to be in the warehouse; they hadn’t been on the soil of Paradis in years. They’d caught you off guard and sent your escape plan into action sooner than expected. You’d tried to follow Mikasa and Armin, but Jean was in your way. The lines of your vertical movement gear had tangled with his as you both hurriedly attempted to ascend and meet Levi in the aircraft, sending you spiraling back into the window, back into enemy territory.

          Someone kicked you in the skull when you landed, you could still feel your head throbbing with the soreness. That must’ve been what did you in, what made you easy pickings to become a captive to the Marleyan government.

          You sat up, taking note of your surroundings: of course, they’d put you in a cell, one void of a bed but thankfully containing a fucking bucket. How considerate. Just outside the iron bars was a table scattered with broken pieces of your gear, undoubtedly torn apart to be studied and to keep you from using it to escape.

          Anger brewed inside your chest, a familiar feeling of betrayal returning that you hadn’t felt in years. There were faces here you didn’t want to see, enemies with broken facades that still haunted your thoughts at night. People you’d trusted, people you’d loved.

          You knew they would show themselves soon. If you were still alive, it’s because there were questions that Zeke Yeagar wanted answers to, tendrils of doubt and duplicity that he wanted to sink into your mind.

━━━─── • ───━━━

          Reiner felt sick. He’d never wanted to see you again, yet he’d been the one to carry your unconscious body through the compound, to cuff you and leave you on the frigid concrete floor. He’d stood over your figure for a while, heart pounding his chest out of fear that you’d wake up and flash that scrutinizing gaze of yours toward him again. But you’d just laid there at his feet, small, vulnerable, like a lost memory washed back upon the shores of his life.

          And of course, now that you were awake, you weren’t talking, refusing to take Zeke’s bait.

          He watched the older man pace around the room, glasses glinting as he wrung his hands. Truly, Reiner had been surprised that Zeke didn’t kill you on the spot, instead opting to transport you all the way across the border to their headquarters, insistent that you be treated like precious cargo. Though, it had been hard to keep Porco from poking at your body in the floorboards of the armored truck. Reiner had tried to keep his gaze away from you, eyes glued to the dark horizon outside of the rain smeared window. Maybe if he had stopped looking at you, you would have disappeared.

          There was something pressing Zeke, something worrying him that he wasn’t sharing with the rest of the warriors. He thought you knew something, or perhaps that you could be valuable in some way.

          Reiner knew that if you were to live, you needed to speak, needed to give them a piece of information to work with. He placed his head in his hands at the table, palms rubbing at his eyes. He shouldn’t—he didn’t—care if you took your last breath here. You were the enemy, someone who’d once held a knife to his throat when his true intentions within the ranks of The Scouts were revealed. He almost wished you’d killed him then, that you’d ended all the years of misery and regret that still clung to his mind like a poisonous leech.

          “Maybe she’ll give in to someone she knows,” Zeke stopped his pacing, attention turning to Annie Leonhart who sat across from Reiner, “why don’t you give it a go?”

          “Absolutely not,” she rejected, long legs crossing at the ankles upon the table.

          “Bertholdt tells me that you two were quite the comrades during your reconnaissance mission.”

          “I wouldn’t say that. We just found each other tolerable. Bertie was always sweet on her, though.”

          Zeke sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Bertholdt is kind to everyone, he’s as soft as they come.”

          Bertholdt, per usual, stayed quiet in the face of Zeke’s remarks.

          Porco Galliard chuckled at that statement, straightening his shoulders before he spoke.

          “Which is exactly why you should’ve sent me to Paradis instead, Chief. I could give her a go. You were being too easy on her, anyways. Once you start ripping off fingernails people really start to give in, you know.”

          Reiner’s gut twisted at the thought.

          “You’re not allowed anywhere near her, Gailliard,” Zeke crossed his arms as a smirk settled into the lines of his beard, “she’s far too pretty, you’d break down and grovel to her before it was all over.”

          Galliard huffed, a pink tinge dusting his cheeks as he shrunk down in his seat.

          “Reiner—”

          He had an inkling that it would come down to this. There would be no point in disputing it, he’d have to come face to face with his past, with sins he thought he left behind four years ago.

          He stood before Zeke could complete his thought, heavy knuckles rapping at the wood of the table.

          “Well, looks like we finally have a volunteer.”

           Every inch of Reiner’s skin bristled as he marched down the corridor to the prison cells. His footsteps were jarring, heavy, like he was determined to leave prints in the floor to mark a final walk of shame. Some part of him hoped you’d be gone when he opened the door, that you would have used your wits and crawled through some air duct and run away from this, from him.

          He almost didn’t turn the door handle. He felt invisible, burdensome hands pulling at his shoulders, calling at him to run. He’d always been a coward, especially when it came to you. He hated you, loathed you because he knew you pegged him as fraud from the beginning. You never threw a kind word in his direction, always looked at him like he was below you, like his pride meant nothing to you.

          Reiner just wished that you had meant nothing to him. Even when the opportunity had presented itself, he couldn’t even find the strength to kill you like his orders demanded. He wondered if you remembered it at all, if your memories had finally flooded back after all this time. Something inside his heart wouldn’t let him that night, some unknown, egregious feeling that by some means overshadowed his hatred. 

          That feeling returned when he entered the room and found you sitting with your back to the wall, your tightly bound hands in your lap.

          He took in a deep breath as he averted his gaze, teeth gritting at the sight of you awake. Zeke was right, four years had done you justice; time had only made you more beautiful than before, and he worried he might fall to his knees before you.

          “Reiner.”

          Sometimes, he just really wished people would stop saying his name.

━━━─── • ───━━━

          A strange relief settled into your stomach at the sight of him. Reiner was as hulking as ever, broad shoulders stretching the threads of his shirt to their limits. But he was different, older…demure, in some ways. He didn’t hold his head as high anymore, didn’t immediately cross his arms across his barreled chest to appear larger. He took tired, golden eyes less intense than you last remembered. His fingers rubbed at his lips, at the facial hair that adorned more pronounced cheekbones.

          You hated to admit that he appeared even more handsome than you remembered.

           There was a red armband tied around his bicep, an insignia emblazoned on it that you’d never seen before.

          “Do I make you nervous, Braun?”

          You caught his attention then, made his eyes look at you as you leaned your head back against the stone wall.

          “Tough question from the one behind bars.”

          His voice had changed, too. He sounded more stoic, more serious. There used to be a hint of glee under that tongue of his.

          “Why am I here?”

          “I’m supposed to be the one asking you things.”

          You shrugged, biting at your cheek as you wiggled your toes to try to make them feel again. Your limbs were starting to ache, your head too, body feeling like it was starting to cement to the floor. You didn’t want to be Zeke Yeagar’s plaything, but you knew that if you were alive, there was something they wanted. There was some leverage you held, but you weren’t sure what it was just yet. You had hoped they would send Bertholdt in to talk to you, you always could get under his skin.

          Reiner was a more difficult case for you. He always coated himself in arrogance, made it harder for you to chip away at his armor. He never let anyone in, just always grinned, acted like he had everything under control. But before you was a man with cracks, a man that time and guilt had eroded. You almost felt sorry for him, almost. A man like him deserved to bear the weight of his burdens.

          “Listen, if you don’t start talking—”

          “You’ll what? Kill me?”

          “We’ll torture you.”

          He said the words with a weight that knocked you back a bit, stole the last breath of gusto you were holding onto. You expected as much, but hearing it said aloud made fear crawl up your spine, made the cuffs around your wrist feel even more strained against your skin.

          “What do you want to know? I could tell Yeagar was prodding for something tangible to use against Paradis.”

          “I just want to know what you know about us, if you know anything about what Marley has been doing in the last few years.”

          “You’ve been fighting a war, that much I know.”

          And he looked like he had been through battle, been through hell in trenches and gunfire. Your intelligence agents had reported that Braun had been promoted to be Vice Commander of the Warrior Unit, and the hardline of his frown told you he’d seen more horrors than you wanted to know about.

          “Tell me something you don’t know from news headlines.”

          Levi had trained all his scouts for this situation once upon a time ago. You could still hear his voice in your head, commanding you to give up as little as possible, learn what the enemy wanted and then give them something else to cling on to. You had a few things you knew you could feed to them, beneficial tidbits that would satiate their hunger and keep them from feasting upon your teammates. But relaying any kind of information was a death sentence within itself; give the dogs a treat and eventually they’ll want more.

          And you knew that Reiner, that Zeke Yeagar, was a very greedy host.

          You stood slowly, releasing the aching tension in your lower back. Reiner didn’t flinch away from his place beyond the rusting iron, instead eyeing you like you were some exotic thing in a cage.

          There was a nostalgia of being in his presence, even if the atmosphere around him was contrary to what you were used to perceiving. He still made your blood boil, still made your fighting instincts come alive in the back of your mind. You still felt small in his shadow, but there was still a lingering feeling, a fleeting memory, about how being around him once made you feel safe.

          Your bare feet moved toward him, toes stinging against the cold of the floor.

          One of your hands wrapped around a bar to your prison, the metal of your handcuffs clinking against the barrier.

          You could catch his scent from being this close, and at least that much stayed the same—he always smelled like cedarwood, earthy and sweet, like the spice of the forest floor after a fresh rain. It was almost funny how smell created memories more frequently than any other sense. 

          Suddenly, you felt like you were back home, like nothing had changed, as if his deceit had never been revealed. Your mind’s eye flashed images of your old training camp, of Reiner lifting Connie onto his shoulders after the small boy had successfully managed to triumph over Jean in his marksmanship practice. He’d used one of the tricks that Reiner had taught him. That once sweet memory turned sour as you remembered just why Reiner was always such a good shot.

          You tilted your chin up to look at him, to come face-to-face with the imposing penumbra you thought you’d warded off. He was a living ghost brought back to haunt you once again.

          “You seem pathetic, Braun, like you’ve lost all that bravado that made you so special.”

          He took your words, let them bounce off his chest like you hadn’t even spoken them.

          ��Why did they send you in here? Did they really expect I’d crack under such pitiful pressure? You’re a deplorable, miserable—”

          His fist wrapped around your hand, crushing your fingers between his might and the metal bar you’d secured yourself to.

          You hissed at the pain, but…there was something you had missed in that touch of his; he felt warm, worn, like there were secrets being pressed into your skin.

          “Be. Quiet.”

          You expected his fingers to flex, waited for him to crack your fingers under his pressure. But he kept his strength at bay, electing to keep a steady, continuous tension against your knuckles.

          “Talk, or tomorrow will be your last day. You wouldn’t want to die at the hands of a pathetic, wretched man like me, would you? No, you’re too proud for that.”

          He took a step back, releasing his bruising grip before turning on his heels to leave.

          A string of panic began to uncoil inside you, snapping as his arm extended towards the exit.

           “Reiner,” you called, “tell me something. How much do you really know about Zeke Yeagar?”

           “I know enough.”

           “No, you don’t,” you were starting to sound worried, you could hear it, “there’s something I know that you don’t, and I’d be willing to give you information in return for you answering a question for me.”

           You could feel your heart beating in your chest, every pump within your ribs like the ticking of an oppressive clock. He was silent, steady, back still turned away from you. You noticed that his fists were clenched by his side, a vein starting to appear up the exposed length of his forearm.

           “I’ll consider it. Depends on what your question is.”

           He still didn’t turn to look at you.

           “Reiner…tell me what happened to Marco.”

           The door was slamming shut before the last syllable of the dead man’s name left your lips.

Next Chapter

[bluebellhairpin]

Favours - Part Two

Mafia AU!Levi Ackerman  X Fem!Reader

Part One // Part Three 

A/N: Thanks guys, now look what you did. - Nemo 

Summary:  You meet with the head of the Ackerman family. An agreement is struck, and a plan formed - even if it wasn’t the one he had originally planned.

Warning(s): Language. Mentions of dismemberment. 

Listening to: ‘Looking at Me’ by Sabrina Carpenter (slowed) - ‘Did I catch your attention? You look like you lost your breath.’

Masterlist 

You’d seen this many men in one place before. Back at your first family meeting. You didn’t like it then. You definitely didn’t like it now. 

Even though there were only five other people at the table - the fact they were all men didn’t sit well with you. 

As soon as you sat down, one of the blond’s at Levi’s side introduced you to everyone. He was Erwin Smith, and the one opposite him was Furlan Church. Then closest to you on either said was Miche Zacharias and Mobilt Berner. 

You did like learning people names, but you hated the formalities. 

“Erwin I appreciate the introductions, but we all know I’m not here for a meet-and-greet.” 

Levi quirked an eye up at you from across the room. 

“Well you are right.” Erwin said, leaning back in his seat and cast a glance at Levi. “So I suppose beating around the bush with formalities isn’t on the table anymore.” 

Erwin raised his hand at Moblit, who then slid a piece of paper in front of you. You cast your eyes down to the card-like paper. The most noticeable thing was the coat of arms at the top, embedded into the paper with gold, and then two lines at the bottom - perfect for signatures. You didn’t need to read anything more to know it was meant as a signed deal. 

You clicked your tongue, pressing the paper a little ways in front of you before looking up straight at Levi. 

“Do you normally have your people talk for you?” you asked, gesturing to the others at the table as you shifted in your seat to cross your legs. “Or do I make you so nervous that your balls tighten and make your voice too squeaky to actually speak for yourself?” 

Hange snickered beside you, covering it with a hand and some coughs. You, however, didn’t hide your coy smile as his eyes narrowed at you. 

He leaned forward in his chair, and crossed his arms on the table. 

“It’s either you had no backbone at all, or the strongest I’ll ever come across in my entire life.” he said, “You should’ve known even before you came in that you’ve barely gained enough recognition to be in the same room as me, let alone hear me speak.”

“You asked for me, not the other way around.” You quipped, smile quickly fading and your tone turned serious. “Don’t act like I was groveling at your feet like some dog to be here, because we both know I wasn’t.” 

A few long moments passed, and neither you nor Levi even blinked to break the glares you were holding. He leaned back again. 

“Care to take a walk, (y/n)?” 

───────✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰✧.｡:✱───────

“You’re smart, and quick,” he said, “Which is probably why you’ve grown so quickly.” 

You’d both taken to the rooftop, leaning against one of the hand rails and sunglasses on. It seemed too casual, especially since everyone else was left either inside or in the patio that you both came from. Apparently Levi needed absolute privacy from all ears for this conversation.

“You’ve gotten the invitation too?” He asked. 

“From Jaeger?” You said, and he nodded. “Yes I have.” You looked up at the skyline. It sure did have a nice view up here. 

“I’ve hear it’s more for a meeting than a dinner. Rod Reiss is going to be there too. Apparently Zeke want’s to make a deal with all four of our families.” He shifted, now leaning his side on the rail rather than his back. “I want us to come to an agreement.” 

“Why? What’s in it for you?” you asked. “And what’s in it for me?” 

“Well,” he sighed, “If Jaeger wants to do something you, or I, don’t like, then we back each other up. If I wanna go one way, you go that way. If you wanna go one way, I go that way too.” 

You turned to face him. 

“What if I like what Jaeger wants to do, and you don’t?” you said. “What if he’s already come to me and told me what he wants and I already want it too?” 

Zeke Jaeger had not done that. 

“He hasn’t.” Levi said, crossing his arms. “But if that did happen, then I suppose I’d have no choice but to follow anyway. It’s what the deal says we’d do, so I’d do it.”

“Loyal are we Ackerman? Better not make it a fault of yours.”

“That mouth of yours better not be a fault either. People will have your tongue if you keep wagging it around like that.” He warned. 

There were people out there who did that. Dismemberment. You’d never been on the receiving end of any such threat or treatment. Your father, however, had. He had a box delivered once, back when you were around eighteen years old. Inside was four fingers and a thumb. 

“They’d have to get past them to do that.” you said, pointing over to Hange, Nanaba, and Mikasa. “And then they’d have to keep me still long enough to do it.” You smiled over at him. He shook his head - in disbelief or dismissal, you didn’t know. 

“So, verdict?” he asked, the subject now back on track. “Deal or not?” 

“How long is the contract for?” 

“Six months,” he said, “Then it can be extended, or we can do away with it completely and act like we never had it to begin with.” You rubbed under your nose.

“How about this.” you offered, “The meeting with Zeke Jaeger will be a trial of sorts. We see how it goes for both our sides to make sure we like the deal and then make it official.” 

He licked his lips, looking out at the other buildings and the slightly clouded sky as he thought. He turned back to you, shaded eyes flashing at you, and held out his hand.

“Fair.” He said, and you slipped your hand in his, shaking it.

“Fair. Business with you is a joy, Levi.” You said. “I have yet to know why people fear you so much.” You joked, leaning forward slightly. He rolled his eyes, turning you both back to walk back toward the patio. 

“Wait long enough and I’m sure you’ll find out. Jean!” He barked, stepping up into the outdoor area and flicking off his sunglasses. “Call Miss. Shiv’s cars back around to the front.”

“Yessir.” Jean said, scurrying away from where he loitered at Mikasa’s side to disappear around a corner. 

“Came to an agreement, I hope.” Erwin said, his mouth hovering against a crystal rocks glass as he smiled at you both. 

“Of sorts.” you said, eyeing the blond and his almost twin as you parted from Levi’s side to join your girls. “Although not the agreement you hoped for, I think.” 

Erwin looked at you, eyes glinting, and took a large swig from his glass before setting it down and casting a glance at Levi. 

“Better than none, I suppose.” he said, pushing a glass over at Levi. “You’re not staying?” 

“No, sorry.” you said, turning away from Nanaba to face Erwin properly. “Can’t have Jean running around for nothing, can we?” You flicked your collar, smiling at them. Erwin made a ‘sure’ face, while you caught Levi quirking his lips in a smile. 

“Here we were thinking you had somewhere else to be.” Erwin’s almost-twin, Miche, said. Speaking for the first time. Pity it wasn’t worth much.

“Well I do have somewhere else to be - not here.” 

With that you left, Hange shook her head at your antics as she and the other followed, finally leaving all the men behind. 

“She sure is something.” Furlan said, sitting himself down on a couch across from where Erwin and Levi stood.

“She’s trouble.” Miche added. 

“She’s powerful,” Erwin said, “We can use her and her smarts.”

“She’s an ally.” Levi said, tone a matter of finality. “Now we’ll treat her as such.” 

───────✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰✧.｡:✱───────

“So, you and Boss Man had a nice talk, huh?” Hange said, now comfortably sprawled in the backseat of your car. 

“He was definitely pleasant company, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“So it went well then?” Sasha asked, looked back at you both briefly through the rear-view mirror. 

“Well enough that you can go through that McDonalds drive through.” You said, pointing to the golden arches just to your left. 

“Oh, really!” You laughed and nodded. 

“Sure. I’m paying.” 

[writingonesdreams]

I have your girl

Grayson and Zeke meet after years again. Zeke has a special offer for Grayson, one he won't be able to refuse.

Shoutout for the Street Magic universe of @cirianne, where this is set and to @kosmosian-quills, whose character is referenced. Thanks to the RP we are doing, I have been so inspired writing this!

Content: kidnapping, angst, threats

Lilly is gone again. She has taken to strolling around the city at night sometimes. I’m not sure why, but it’s definitely better than going back to spy on her family’s house.

It always worries me to have her alone out of my sight, but I’m trying to give her some space. Just because we have been closer recently - we are practically together - doesn’t mean I have to push myself on her too much.

When I can’t sit around anymore after it gets dark, I start to circle around the neighbourhood. Taking a walk and lowkey hoping to spot Lilly on her way back.

Since the incident we have been much more open, much closer, much everything. And I love every second of it. I don’t like remembering what my life before has been like, that dark cold lonesome existence, but Lilly has lit my days and shown me the difference between survival and living. I wonder if this is what Zeke meant with finding your point. I didn’t have a thing like that, a goal or something to live for. Not the way I have now. And I can’t see the weakness in it, when it fills me with so much joy. And joy has to be good, right?

That’s when I notice a person. Tall blond guy leaning lazily on the wall next to me. And he looks just like...But that’s impossible. I haven’t seen him in years, it was another city, another time, another life. He is surely murdering kittens somewhere far far away from here. Whatever turned out from Zeke, I don’t want to know. So I keep walking. I have just been thinking about him, it’s probably why the first punk I see looks like him.

“Long time no see, Gray.” Speaks the voice behind me. No mistake. The depth might have changed, but the tone, the slick melodic and threatening quality to it is the same.

I turn around to get a good look at him. Tall, blond hair in this surfer style kinda longer way. He is dressed well, in a loose suit jacket and a shirt buttoned open just enough to reveal the intricate tattoos on his neck. His silver eyes, the colour of a dead fish, shine with sharpness, despite the inviting smile on his face.

“It’s been a while, Zeke.” I don’t try to hide the annoyance in my voice. Although seeing him kicks my old instincts awake. I right myself up to my full height, steel my face, my hands loosely in my pockets. Not to look tense, like he makes me nervous, but not to look weak either.

“I see you escaped. Maybe that magic of yours isn’t so useless after all. Your hand’s not giving you trouble?” He tilts his head like a snake, watching my every move.

I ball my hands into fists inside the pockets. Zeke was the first one to break my right hand. Badly. Cheated about it too, twisted it until it broke. I won that fight, but I carried that break around for long. Long enough for others to notice, when I was on the streets, and always focus their attacks there. Weak spots. The surest way to win. That’s why Dallas went as far as to throw a brick at it. Break my bones to the point they stuck out my arms like a crowfoot. The biggest scars on my hands are from that. I have been lucky to regain the full use of that arm. It still hurts sometimes, when I’m at my limit.

And he knows I’m a mage. Well, if the big branded M didn’t give me out, maybe the news did. Caught mages are always a good thing to print in papers.

“Nothing permanent. But I see you have been doing well.” He is the same as he has always been. Maybe even worse. I shouldn’t waste time with this.

“Oh yes, I can’t complain. I build quite the empire in the underworld. I told you that people with their points figured out could make it big.” His eyes twinkle gleefully. “Say Gray, now that you are out and free, what about joining up with me? I could use a skilled fighter and a mage in one.”

So this is what it’s about. I shake my head and turn around to leave.

“Thanks for the offer, Z, but I’m good. See you around.” Or better not.

“You absolutely sure? You know, we are very similar, you and I. If we worked together, you could get anything you want. There isn’t a treasure in this world I couldn’t get you. I got the right ressources, the right people on the right places… It’s a good deal.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. I got everything I need.” The hell I would go with you. Zeke is a sadistic psychopath. He loves pain and power and death, and it’s best to stay as far from him as possible. Whatever kingdom he has build for himself, it can’t be anything worth having. My mind flashes to Lilly, the hideout, the other members playing cards and talking tactics. The world is bleak right now, but something better awaits there - I have a purpose now, and a place to go back to. It’s enough.

“I’m glad you say it. Otherwise all my work would have been for nothing.” Zeke’s voice it too happy as he throws something on the sidewalk between us. I turn to look at it. It’s photograph with a person on it. My feet carry me closer before I can think about it.

A girl, lying limply in a suitcase. Her expression dizzy and confused, blood on the side of her face. Blond hair in a ponytail. My vision darkens for a second. 

Lilly.

I move before I can decide, before the thought even forms in my head. I have my hands on Zeke’s throat in an instant, pushing him against the concrete wall he was leaning on.

“Where - is - she?” My breathing is so fast I can barely get the sentence out. I have never felt such intense all consuming rage. I smack Zeke’s head against the wall, then pin him to it with all my might. My voice is not more than a whisper though, as I speak each word carefully and slowly.  “What - have - you - done - with - her?”

“Easy there, high horse,” Zeke is smiling despite having his throat in my grip. How does he dare to smile.

“I haven’t done anything to her. Yet. What you are doing right now. Is. Not. Helping.” Any humor disappears from his voice with the last word. We glare at each other for a while, eye to eye, faces just millimeters from each other. It’s a battle of wills, one we have played hundreds of times. One we have been always matched in.

But I’m the one to back down this time.

I let go of him as he slides on the wall, coughing and holding his neck, but a winning smirk on his face.

All I can think about is Lilly. In hands of this creep. Trapped in that suitcase. She looked drugged, and hurt and scared. Absolutely helpless. The whole world is spinning. I feel like I might throw up and collapse right then and there.

“See, Gray, this is not what I meant with a point. Not falling for a girl, not such an easy prey. Cause love, Gray, is a weakness for losers. By caring about her, you have made yourself vulnerable.” He stands up, dusting invisible filth of his clothes. Gaining ground again.

“If you ever want to see her again, you will have help me out with some work. A mission here, a job there. With you magic and your predatory skill, it will be easy for you. And who knows, maybe you will come around and see some reason with time.”

It’s all too loud in my head. I barely register what he says. He has Lilly. It doesn’t matter what he asks. I can’t refuse.

“You just have to follow the rules. Not saying a word to your buddies from the rebellion. You don’t contact anyone, you don’t cheat. You behave. Come with me and do exactly as I say. And she will live.”

“Don’t you dare touching her.” I grovel. It’s not enough. What this guy can take from a girl like Lilly she could never survive, even if she lived through it. I made a tactical mistake. I reacted too quickly, I let my emotions show. He knows now how much I care and how much control he has over me. Idiot, idiot, idiot!

“As I said, she will be just fine, if you,...”

I move with intent this time. Suppress my emotions, freeze myself as I did back then. When I grab him by the collar, it’s purposeful, careful, well-timed. He breaks the sentence off in surprise.

“Fine. Let’s have a deal. But you remember something, Zeke. Don’t you, or anyone under you, dare touch her. I want her in the same condition and mind as you caught her in. No scars. No abuse. No injuries. No permanent damage. Cause if you don’t,” I can’t think about that, I can’t bear that option, “I will destroy you. You said it yourself, we are similar. If I don’t get Lilly back, I will do everything to get back at you.” I glare at him unblinkingly then, pulling him closer by the collar, so he almost can’t breathe again.

“I will build my own empire, and burn yours to the ground. Kill everybody who has ever met you, followed you or bought anything from you. Until there is nothing left of you, no trace, no memory. And then, only then, when you realize you are the last piece of shit, will I kill you.”

I want him to know what a danger I can be. How serious I am about every word. I can’t do anything, when he has my Lilly. But if he isn’t at least a bit scared about losing that leverage, I will never get her back. Right now, I can’t bargain for anything. Not really. I only have this distant threat and the chance he will believe I can pull it off.

If I lose her...then it doesn’t matter, who I will become, who I have to kill. A man who has never had anything isn’t even half as deadly as a man who has nothing left to lose. The pain I feel now, that horrible, gnawing fear that squeezes my chest, that I almost can’t breathe, has taught me that. There is nothing I wouldn’t do.

“Alright,” Zeke croaks, apprehension in his eyes, “we have a deal.”

Zeke always wanted me in. He respects me, values me. We have been rivals after all. I can still make him scared.

I let him go and turn away, trying to get my breathing under control. The hurt, the fear, I can feel its depth, the pitfall it is in my mind. If I don’t control it, I will go insane.

So I stuff those feelings back, freeze them, tug them deep inside myself and lock them away. I can’t concentrate if I can feel all this. I can’t save her if I keep being the way I learned to be only after meeting her.

“Come on Grayson. Your princess is waiting.” Back to the baiting. Of course. He is quick to regain his composure.

I feel my right hand tremble. It didn’t happen in years, that I felt it shake like this. Reached a new limit for myself. It’s almost funny.

Pulling my resolve and pain close, I face Zeke and what will happen next.

[perfectackeracy]

Please, tell me Eren is talking out of his ass when he says Armin has romantic feelings for Annie because of Bertolt! I hate BeruAni so much, it has to be the worst pairing in AOT because it ruins to amazing characters (Bertl and Annie), I'm so sick of Isayama mentioning it, if it was canon like yumikuri then I would suck it up but it makes no sense, if Annie and Marcel's roles were switched and he was in the crystal, would people be saying Bertl was in love with him? Sorry for the rant

I talked about it on Twitter so I’m going to say it here.

Q: Did Eren imply that Bertholdt was ‘sweet’ and his influence softened Armin? 🤣 the word he used was sweet or am i wrong?

A: Well, Eren started to call Armin the manipulated one because he feels too sympathetic to the enemy and keeps bringing up "let's talk it out", so Eren assumes Bert took control over him or some shit.We all know that, compared to Eren who holds the coordinate, Armin is less likely to be influenced by his predecessor's memories. Porco in example didn't jerk himself over some petite blonde because he ate Ymir

Q: Is it necessary to Isayama for dragging Bertholdt in every topic about Armeen showing creepiness toward rock-Annie? Like please just leave Bert alone in peace, he doesn't deserved to be dragged in for cheap excuse of Armeen's daily fap behaviour reason.

A: I feel like Isayama used Eren has his dudebro-fandom vehicle because he spouts the exact same shit redditors have been saying about the characters he confronted:Reiner attacked Paradis and felt bad? It's only because he's been conditioned that way.Armin visits Annie and proposes a global solution where everyone talks it out? Out of character and Bert must mind-control him.Mikasa cares about Eren and doesn't want to lose more of her loved ones because of trauma? Entirely due to Ackerman's blood.Not only Eren's discussion is biased in some way, but he also projects some aspects of his personality upon lecturing others. The three cases are him rejecting one's responsibility and only blaming it due to external factors, because he himself thinks he's free of consequences. Over the possession thing, it's particularly hilarious to see him accusing Armin of being brainwashed by Bert because Eren himself is even more likely to be influenced by Grisha or Kruger's memories, as seen when he talked to himself multiple times. Aside from the Reiss family, that's the only case where we've seen possession happening. The other users retained at least some sense of individuality.

Q: Not to mention Eren's literal argument is that all Armin wants to do is to talk and negotiate. This isn't a new development for Armin; back in Shiganshina he tells Bertolt the same, word for word. Armin's desire to solve conflicts by negotiation, no matter how pointless, is unrelated to Bert and the proof is right there in the manga.

A: He even tried to resonate with Annie way earlier and even with Kitz's unit at the beginning of the manga, but since it's not an "insidious plan" it quickly went over Eren's head. If Armin doesn't approve of Eren and Zeke's plan, that means there's something wrong with him and that it must be Bert's doing, according to Eren. Nevermind that Armin still rolled along with Eren's plan, using his gary stu nuke on Liberio's harbor, despite potentially wounding Bert's family or friends (especially Reiner).

Not to mention Bert and Annie didn’t have... really positive interactions when they ever interacted at all. It has to be one of the least relevant relationships from the whole manga but it’s either pushed by characters who can’t understand a damn thing of what’s going on.

I mean what’s so attractive about a girl who squashes insects for fun, beats your best friend to death and tells him he’s better off dead, while she calls the two of us “fucking assholes”? Doesn’t really make sense when you put your thoughts about it.

Not only that, but had it be Erwin, he wouldn’t sit down and grovel in front of a crystal, all miserable because he couldn’t stop Eren. That’s also denying Bert’s similarities to Eren when the two of them were confronting Armin:

Q: bert about armin: “you cant do a damn thing”eren about armin: “you are fucking useless” 😂

A: But if Bert was truly taking possession of Armin, then why can't Armin argue properly without punching Eren and why is he confessing to some waifu rock like a sore loser?

Someone told me Annie is just a ruse and Armin actually has feeling for Bert. That seems kinda weird when you think about it but uh... that’s a nice crack theory.

[beca-mitchell]

Pitch Perfect 3: Beca Mitchell is in love with Chloe Beale

...and there’s nothing Universal wanted to do more than to remind us that we’ll never get canon confirmation of this fact.

Hey, it’s me, your extra AF academic giving you an analysis on the three Pitch Perfect movies (see 1 here and 2 here) and which one provided the best shippy Bechloe content. Thus far, I ranked them from highest to lowest as: 1, 2, 3, though I do flip between 1 and 2.

In a departure from the first two movies, PP3 falls short in bringing super obvious and shippy Bechloe content, but reminds us why we stuck around since 2012...and why we’ll likely continue to do so. It is in no way a terrible movie and has its funny moments, great musical numbers, and fine performances from this talented group of actresses.

It allowed fans to grovel on the ground for the scraps of little things thrown in here and there by way of the director and the actresses feeding us outside of the frame of the movie. The reason this is painful is because of the departure from what was verging on plain, old text right back into the sub-basement of subtext.

Aside: I’m interested in what’s confined to the boundaries of this movie because as we know, there’s a lot to be said about how this movie was promoted/marketed. None of that matters because the team already made these exec decisions about how the movie was going to come out 1) while they were filming and; 2) before the marketing really took off.

As a reminder, anon asked me how I’d rank the three movies in terms of shippy content/value for Bechloe shippers. I rank this last, but not because it’s so terrible, but because it’s angsty as fuck and you really walk away from it feeling kind of sad about the whole thing. 

While PP 1 and 2 are hopeful, there’s something about the shippy moments in 3 that seem contrived so much so that they’re not odes to the fans, but rather a final nail in the coffin and that’s why I’m sad about it overall.

There are two points that I want to make here: 

Beca does essentially everything in this movie because of Chloe.

Beca harbours some deep feelings for Chloe.

Something I will not address because addressing it would be as pointless as its inclusion in the PP3 story (but feel free to ask me about that separately):

the Chicago storyline (which is the unfortunate reason why this movie ranks below 1 & 2 for me)

Let’s go!

**all gifs in this post made by me

1. Beca completes her major plot points/does essentially everything in this movie because of Chloe.

To Preface: Chloe and Beca (and Fat Amy) chose to live together in New York. I’m sad that we’ll never get extended group dynamics here, but the fact is, they do and they live together pretty closely as far as we’re aware (the close confines of the apartment, the shared bed, etc.).

Chloe saying “because it reminds me I was special once” in response to Beca asking why she’s wearing her Bellas’ uniform is a lot more emotional than the scene initially leads you to believe. I found this pretty important because I consider it a huge starting point for the movie’s events, particularly in the way Beca goes about doing things.

Beca shuts up pretty quickly after that. Beca agrees to go to the reunion pretty quickly after that, citing that she needs a “distraction”.

Also, Chloe’s genuine concern for Beca is really cute.

Beca agrees to go on the USO tour, but only after she sees Chloe agreeing to go.

I found this interesting because it does seem like Beca’s partially interested. It’s not to say that she doesn’t kind of want to go for herself since we see her genuinely enjoying herself throughout the movie when she’s performing again,  but she really commits to going once she notices Chloe agreeing to go; when she sees Chloe’s renewed enthusiasm.

There’s some great technical stuff throughout the movie, like these cut-aways and isolated shots.

The movie leaves a lot of gaps to fill in here, which struck me as interesting at first, then I was just grateful. There are so many headcanons available to shippers at this point. How close are Beca and Chloe at this point? How much do they share with each other? Their fears, their dreams, their goals?

And Chloe?

Chloe looks so grateful that Beca agrees to go that it makes me want to die.

There’s a genuine relationship between Beca and Chloe that is never fully addressed, but the movie kind of says that it’s there...but as scraps.

Beca is thinking about ‘Freedom’ (the song) throughout the movie...then sings it straight to Chloe at the end.

The one good thing that she’s got.

Beca mixes and layers the intro to her “Freedom” performance in the hotel suite, which means it’s the first thing that kinda popped into her mind. How long has she been thinking about this song over the course of the movie? Beyond the boundaries of the movie? What does this song mean to Beca? You get some implicit answers here and there, obviously. It’s not hard to glean the meaning of the song. 

Then this happens:

And finally, just when you think it’s enough that Chloe’s gaze is the first one she seeks out, when she’s done and high off the adrenaline of performing solo for the first time...

She runs straight into Chloe’s arms. She spins on her heel, without a doubt, and knows who she’s looking for before her eyes even land on her.

There are moments in between that made me think of Bechloe too.

...Like how Beca has the Bellas at heart and wants to cling on to her family because she’s kinda afraid to take that final step into the spotlight as an individual artist. It almost directly parallels Chloe’s dilemma in the second movie, unable to let go completely.

The shipper part of me that wants to believe that it’s entirely due to Beca and Chloe clinging on to each other despite it all. I don’t think it’s too much of a reach, all things considered. It’s not too much of a reach to think that Beca and Chloe are holding on to each other all these years because they’ve grown so attached to each other. Beca cares about Chloe’s interests, just like Chloe displayed the same care for Beca’s interests all those years ago.

2. Beca harbours some Deep Feelings for/Attraction to Chloe, but she doesn’t address it explicitly and we will never see her address it. 

As I mentioned above, this movie kicks off with Beca taking into account how Chloe feels. Chloe is kinda down about vet school and perhaps feeling directionless. Beca is going through something similar, but hers is more on the creative side and what she wants to do with her future as a musician/independent artist.

Beyond the points I mention above re: Beca doing things for Chloe and because of Chloe, Beca exhibits some attraction to Chloe. They’re all moments worth nothing.

Chloe talking passionately and enthusiastically (much like her old self) about the riff-off makes Beca smile.

That’s it, that’s the point. There’s almost nothing more to be said here because Beca’s smile says it all.

This scene - a significant cut-away - makes me so mushy because of how smitten Beca is here.

It’s an homage to the first two movies where we see Beca easing her way into the Bellas with hesitation, but we understand Chloe to be enthusiastic and passionate about almost everything she does. The way she tackles her problems, well, it’s something that Beca seems to love or at least feels very strongly about, likely after so many years being by Chloe’s side.

Beca looking to Chloe for affirmation/validation.

Again, with the side conversations and general validation that Beca looks for in Chloe. That “special bond” as Trish Sie calls it. There’s a degree of ‘friendship’ here that exceeds Beca’s friendship with Fat Amy. There’s an unspoken closeness between them that really makes you want to know about their history. The years we didn’t get to see.

The two times (of many) she looks to Chloe for support.

And the one time she looks to Chloe to offer support.

Beca allows the boob-grabbing to happen with detached interest.

She’s gay.

“Dude. What is...What is this about?”

And once again, we’re left on the edge of something more, but yet, not quite. Beca, in a departure from her awkward shower encounter with Chloe, isn’t fazed anymore. In fact, the curiosity in her voice is there. It’s the curiosity that Chloe employs in the second movie - the same that Beca ignores and pushes away.

Good question, Beca. What is this about? Is it about the unspoken tension? Is it about the attraction? Who’s to say?

We will never know because Aubrey interrupts them.

It’s “nothing”, in the grand scheme of things, which is absurdly painful. More painful than I thought possible for a movie about a cappella.

Bonus: Beca Mitchell is not a heterosexual.

Her general disdain for Theo can be seen from space. Not that she thinks he’s a terrible person (she says so), but that she is 100% not attracted to him on any level.

What I love more, however, is when we’re introduced to Chicago and Zeke. All the ladies - except two - are basically swooning over them. The two that aren’t? Cynthia Rose (for obvious reasons) and Beca.

Beca is just...riding this wave of not being attracted to men at all in this movie and I’m here for it.

She looks so unimpressed...and that is the Mood for this movie, folks.

Also, if this scene doesn’t remind you of PP2...you’re watching this wrong.

And that’s it! I can’t believe I made it. In total, over the three posts, I clocked in at around 4.3k words. What the fuck??

Thanks for reading!

If you want, reply, reblog w/ comments, or like this post! I’m interested in what people have to say. Tell me what you thought! Tell me what you’re still thinking about! 

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

DOTW 45 - full - ya'll welcome

Levi was in a bad state. Floch had tracked down the real Marcel Galliard, only to find the man dead and locked in his own chest freezer. The house had been recently abandoned, and clues were running dry. Being unable to work, he had all the time in the world to drive himself insane. All the time in the world to play out every possible scenario of Eren's abduction. They'd found that the "heart attack" victim, had been paid to call in the emergency. He'd thought it a prank. A stranger having approached him and paid him $100 just to make a simple call to prank his friend. The man didn't even know Levi and Eren both lived in the building, and he'd already spent the cash so there was no way of tracking down the bills he was paid with. The ambulance used to transport Eren was found on the outskirts of the city, the same night Levi had come home. There'd been blood at scene, though it hadn't been Eren's, it was enough to drive the spike of fear deeper into his heart. If Eren had fought, his boyfriend could be out there somewhere in a critical condition. Levi couldn't even sleep without seeing Eren. His dreams never once being kind to him, as Eren blamed him for his death, over and over... For the first month after Eren disappeared, he, Hanji and Anna, and Erwin had all been living together in a "safe" house that Floch had organised. They hadn't had access to the outside world. He'd nearly gone crazy from Hanji mothering him, and Erwin trying to father him. He wasn't a fucking child. He didn't need the guilt of their concern on top of his own guilt. Titan had hated the safe house, so the moment one month was up, Levi had returned back to his apartment. If Eren was out there and trying to get home, then he'd be there waiting for him. Even if it took the rest of his life. * Drenched in blood, Eren stumbled down the dirt road. His body was shaking with shock, his hair wild from lack of care and his bottom lip chewed to something resembling a bloody pulp. The cold night wind seemed to rip through his near naked body, while the knife in his right hand seemed to be the only thing he was acutely aware of. The day he'd been taken from the apartment, his world had been turned upside down. In that moment, it was like someone spinning a mirror in its stand. As it gradually slowed, he was left looking at a sight that disgusted him, as much as it confused him. His father was standing there. His father who'd walked out and left him, was now the one coming for him. He'd thought the man dead, yet he showed up, screaming at him that they had to leave. Bertholdt and Reiner were the ones who were the ones who'd supposed to come for him. He'd say there, through the night and watched the door. The largest and sharpest knife in the house was his only protection. But his father. His father hadn't been expected. The desire to kill the man where stood was only bested by his need to know. And now, he'd give almost everything not to. Still. He'd left with him. He'd written what he needed to Levi, praying that his boyfriend would understand the things he was trying to say. The things he'd written just that little bit bigger without making it too obvious. Given the degree of shock he'd been in, and that he'd had to pull himself out of an impending panic attack, he'd been proud he'd been able to write anything at all. Taken down by elevator, Bertholdt joined them in the narrow space. Again. He didn't understand. Bertholdt had blamed the whole thing on his father. He'd cursed him, and told him end up dead, just like him. So why was the alpha now sullenly following his father's orders? The thoughts in his head wouldn't stop. His breathing ragged, as if he'd already done the runner he was planning too. For nearly fucking decade, he'd thought he was dead. He'd thought the man had forgotten he'd even existed, and that's why he'd up abandoned. Just having his father next to him was enough to make him physically ill, to the point when the elevator doors opened to the ground floor, he'd fainted. Waking up, he was in a small room. It was basic. Very basic, but he counted his blessings that it wasn't a basement. Sitting on the end of his bed, his father was reading... like he was some fucking right to be there. Trying to find his voice, nothing came forth. He wanted to scream, or at least tell his father to let him go. With a heavy sigh, the man closed the book he'd been reading. The look on his face unreadable as he turned to him. This was the face of the man who'd hurt him. Who'd killed his mother and beat him for being an omega. The face of the man who wanted to sell him off. Who considered him defective and dirty for having a second dynamic he couldn't help. The face of the man who'd fucking ruined his life "Eren, I hoped we wouldn't meet like this. I'm sure you must have some questions" Yeah. Like how the fuck did he get out of here?! And where was here? That was about it. He didn't want to know what his father had been doing, and he didn't care to know. The man had left him when he'd needed him the most "You're right. There are some things words cannot say alone. Not when those are listening. Perhaps it would be easier to show you" Eren wanted to protest, but again, nothing came out. His father rose from the end of the bed, walking to stand next to where he sat. Reaching out his hand, Eren recoiled from touch. His face filled with disgust. Just the scent of his father was enough to have him vomiting in his mouth "Eren, either you come with me, or we have you moved to less agreeable accomodations until you learn your place" Learn his place? He knew his fucking place. It was in Shinganshima, with Titan and Levi. It was waking up in Levi's arms, and cuddling on the sofa. This place. Was not his place "You have until three to decide, then I'll be deciding for you. One. Two..." Not giving him any time to think, Eren scrambled from the bed before his father could say three "Excellent. Zeke's training was effective, I see" Eren's throat tightened at the mention of Zeke's name. How did his father know about that? Or how Zeke had trained him... "You will follow me. You will be silent and if you run, we will chain you. Do I make myself understood?" Unable to speak, Eren nodded "Come along then" Blinded as the excited the room, he found himself in some kind of world that looked like it'd been lifted from a movie. The whole area was set in a wide circle, various people coming and going from the stark white buildings. Moving towards the building opposite them, Eren followed. There was something about this whole place that scent a chill through him. This wasn't good place. It felt cold and empty. Like everyone was here, didn't want to be. Trailing after his father, his bare feet froze against the damp grass. Trust Grisha to ruin everything he could for him, grass now included. Despite the humble outside of the building, Eren smelt disinfectant as he walked into what seemed to be some kind of laboratory. Once again, everything was too white, and the glass was just way too clean. With no time to stop and take it all in, he followed blindly until they reached a set of heavy dark doors, the silver handles looking imposing as fuck. He definitely wasn't supposed to be here. Taking two steps back, his heart was pounding hard enough for him to hear it. Turning and catching sight of him, Grisha covered the distance between them, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him forward "You will obey me, or they will kill you" What the fuck. Whoever "they" were, made plenty of empty fucking threats and promises. He was supposed to be dead already, not in some kind of fucked up dream world where his father was alive. Gripping his arm so hard that it hurt, he was pulled to the doors, Grisha giving a single knock before entering. Inside the room was decked in black. Even the plants either side or the desk seemed to be black. The space feeling so heavy and oppressive, it was hard to remain standing. Seated at the long oval table that filled most of the room, 11 sets of eyes were on him as he pulled over and manhandled down into a chair, his father taking the seat next to him "Eren Yeager" His name was said like it was a hair ball being coughed up. The old man at the end of the table looked slightly familiar, but he couldn't place it. Seated to his left, were Reiner and Bertholdt, both alphas looking like scared rabbits, rather than killers "Eren. We understand you've been causing some problems for all of us. Under your father's recommendation, we have decided to liberate you from your current life. Do you understand?" He understood nothing. Glaring back at the man seated directly opposite him, he crossed his arms "Grisha. You assured me the boy would talk" "And he will" "You know the penalty if he does not" Under the table, his father kicked him. What were they? 12? "It has come to our attention that you have been communicating with the Shinganshima Police Department, and with a certain officer Floch Forster" Floch had a last name? Dah. Of course people had last names "Eren, you seem to be under the impression we are bad people. We are not, and we hope that in time, you will see the mistakes you have made. Grisha, return him to his room" That was it? He was dragged up here, for that? Fucking seriously? He had more questions that fucking answers, and he still had no idea where the fuck he was. Was this a cult? Had his father really abandoned him, to join this fucking cult? He'd seen enough TV to know cults were filled with weirdos, and that these things never worked out well for anyone involved. In the movies, everyone always ended up dead with a lone survivor walking off into the distance as the place burned to the ground. Is that what he'd been caught up in? Escorted back to his room, his father didn't stay. Maybe he got that Eren wanted absolutely nothing to do with him... or more likely, he had to go grovel to whoever those people in that room had been... If the alpha thought he was simply going to take all of this, without a word of real explanation, he was sadly mistaken. For the first week Eren was kept isolated from everyone. His father brought him meals, and took him to what seemed to be a communal shower block. The number of omegas in the place took him by surprise, as did the number of children. It didn't look like a place for children, and none of them looked happy about it. No one talked either. Normally a pregnant omega took comfort in being with other omega's, but here, everyone tried to avoid everyone else. Something was going on here and he didn't like it. Nor was he going to let things keep going like this. His own omega was distraught from their smells, leaving him constantly on edge. He still hadn't been able to find his voice, but he had found that his door locked from the outside, which was useless, but his window. His window was wonky in its frame. That he might be able to use. His plans were dashed when he was moved into the same room as his father. Ninety percent of the room was filled from floor to ceiling with medical technology that meant nothing to him. Two small beds sat at the rear of the room, once covered with books. Locked in with his father, the first thing Grisha did was throw his arms around him, holding him tight like a loving father would "It's safe to talk here. I never meant to get you involved with any of this" Well that was a load of shit. If he hadn't wanted him involved, he could have fucking left him with Levi "Look, you may not believe me, but all I wanted was to keep you safe. What happened with your mother... I wish it could have been avoided. And then with Zeke. Zeke did well. He kept you safe and hidden..." Shoving his father off him, he bared his teeth as he snarled "Eren..." Trying to form his words, nothing happened. Instead he stood there like the angry idiot he was "Eren, it's ok. I know you must have a lot of questions, but for now, know that I had to drive you away. I had to make sure you wouldn't track me down, or come after me. I'm sorry for what happened. I was a fool. I was a coward. I tried to find a way out of this all... but now... no. Never mind. Just know, that if you do as they say, things will go much smoother... this... this was all I could do to keep you alive. Read the books on your bed, then you'll understand" Eren ignored the books for as long as he could. He couldn't calm down with his father acting so "normal" around him. Nothing about this was normal. Nothing about this place was normal. On the dresser that sat between his and his father's bed, were photos. Photos Eren felt Grisha had no right to have. Not only were they of his mother, but also of Zeke and Zeke's mother. It was bad enough that they were on display, but out of all the photos in the small collection, most of them were of him. Including recent photos of him with Levi. He'd suspected they were being watched, but there was no real evidence, other than Bertholdt working with Levi, and he hadn't known about that until months after it'd first started. Photos of him coming out of Krista's office. In Paradis. At the hospital. At Moblit's wake. The most recent was of him at the Charity Ball with Levi on his arm. It was sickening. He didn't want anything to do with Grisha. He'd rather... he'd rather be trapped in a room with Reiner and Bertholdt than sharing this room with his father. At least he knew the pair wanted him dead. He knew what they wanted from him, and who they were. His father on the other hand was a stranger from his nightmares. He probably wished Eren had been wasted across the sheets rather than ever be conceived. His father noticed that he hadn't read the books on his bed almost immediately. The man held off saying anything, until Eren was woken in the middle of the night. His father already awake, but the knocking on their door couldn't be ignored. Beckoned to follow, Eren was freezing in the thin white clothes he'd been gifted. He didn't even have time to slide his shoes on before he was being lead through the central courtyard area. Yeah. They were definitely in some kind of cult. Called to deliver a pup, Eren nearly bolted from the room the moment he realised what was going on. The poor woman had been left to ordeal everything alone, while two stocky alphas stood guard outside her room. Directed to hold her hand, and support her, he was grateful he didn't have to be down the other again. Birth might be a miracle, but staring at people's private parts was gross. Just because everyone had them, didn't mean they needed to show them off or anything... and he had no idea how people could work with those areas... it was not for him. Having been left until nearly the final moment, the female omega was a mess, the birth over in three pushes, and the baby a healthy girl. He was so fucking angry. The girl was taken from the mother with one of the waiting alphas like it was a normal thing to do. The woman was crying for her pup and he couldn't fucking do anything about it. Once his father had made sure he was alright, they'd been escorted back to their room, and his father had pushed the books he'd been ignore into his hands. He didn't know why he needed to read them, not when the moment he figured out how to get out of wherever he was, he was gone. He'd done some fucked up things in his life, but whatever this was... he didn't want any part of this. * Levi may have overindulged with his drinking the previous night. Though, he didn't know if was classed as overindulging, when he was still drinking. Erwin had decided he was fucking moving in 7 weeks after Eren's disappearance. It wasn't like Levi was still falling apart. He would have had to stop falling apart for that to happen. He'd plastered as many missing posters of Eren as he could onto their social media accounts, as well as printing physical copies, and distributing them everywhere he could. Each day got harder. Waking up without Eren by his side. Without his sleepy smile. His soft purrs and messy bedhead. The way he reached out for him if Levi moved away. The way Eren would smile as he snuggled into him, and would mumble his name in his sleep. His phone was constantly by his side in case Eren found a way to called him. Floch was still looking for Eren, without making things too obvious. He'd been sideswiped while driving, barely able to prevent his car from rolling, shortly after the discovery of Marcel's body. Floch was now working personally under Dot Pixis as an internal review was being conducted through the precinct. Being on the outside, he had no way of knowing what had been discovered, and the daily calls to the man in the hopes of news, had become weekly instead. Every time a dead body was found and reported on the news, Levi's heart would break a little more. He didn't want to find Eren dead. He just wanted to find him. He wanted things to go back to how they'd been... his apartment resembled more of a pigsty than a abode. The dishes sitting in the sink for days at a time, while the only actually shopping he did was for Titan, or printer ink when he'd run out from printing missing person flyers. Eren's room was just the way he'd left it. Erwin was sleeping on the sofa, with the hopes that he'd just fuck off back home. A fine layer of dust had settled over everything, but if he washed Eren's blankets, he'd be washing away Eren's scent, and he wasn't strong enough to do that. He needed his omega. Or he needed to make enough noise that Reiner and Bertholdt would come for him. He'd named and shamed them on social media, and still, nothing had happened. Eren had said they'd be after him once he was dead, yet it seemed more like once they'd gotten Eren, they couldn't give two fucks about everyone else... Erwin was at work, leaving Levi home with Titan and the bottle of scotch he'd been sipping on since the night before. There was only one benefit to Erwin being in the apartment and that was when he left. When he left, Levi could stay in bed, remembering Eren. He'd been looking forward to getting Eren out of that dress. They'd touched a little during Eren's post heat, when Eren had needed the physical contact to soothe his fears, but that was so long ago, it felt like he'd forgotten the heat of Eren's body against his. Rolling so his facing his phone, he ignored the device as it started to ring. People had called about Eren, some even texting him messages of abuse. Calls were worse though. Some where just heavy breathing, and some where people simply telling him he was disgusting or possessive and should let Eren be happy without him. The only calls he answered were Hanji's, because she'd show up in person if he didn't. He couldn't bare the look of pity in her eyes. Nor could he stand her lectures. He knew what he was doing wasn't healthy. He knew he needed to stop. He needed to rethink the situation, and formulate a new plan, but as soon as he'd start thinking about Eren... it was like something broke a little more inside of him. Eren was in his thoughts constantly, as he tried to remember every detail of every moment they'd spent together. The way Eren would light up when he learned something new, or the way he'd rush to hug him when he came home from work. He desperately didn't want to forget him. Letting the call ring out, two chimes dinged from his phone. Usually a missed call would only mean one, unless a message was left. With an exaggerated groan, he reached out and picked his phone up. His notifications informing him that there was indeed a message left. Whatever. He might as well listen to whoever had decided he needed to abused. Maybe it'd be a fucking joke. He could use a laugh. The moments of laughter in his apartment had been few and far between, without Eren there. Eren was the warmth and sunlight in his life, while Levi felt like he was sucking the life from everything as he continued his half life. Opening the message, he closed his eyes and hit play "Good Afternoon, this is Leah from Karanes Psychiatric Hospital. I am trying to contact Levi Ackerman, in regards to Eren Yeager. If you could please give me a call back on..." Karanes. He'd never even been there, let alone known anyone there. They had no reason to be calling, and he severely doubted Eren would be there... so why was his thumb hovering over the message? She hadn't said Eren was a patient. And Eren didn't need the kind of help those places usually offered... Anger flared in the emotionally exhausted alpha. This obviously had to be a prank call. It always fucking was. Erwin had urged him to remove the missing posters online, especially after Eren started getting all kinds of friend requests. He'd removed it on Eren's, but until Eren came home, he'd keep it online on his. Deciding Leah could go fuck herself, he called the number back with the intention of doing just that... only, it wasn't Leah who answered, and his mind panicked. He hadn't thought anyone else would. Shit. Fuck. He was fucking alpha, he wasn't supposed to get flustered like this "E-Eren Yeager..." He sounded like a retarded parrot as he stuttered the words out "Hello? Sir? I'm afraid I don't understand. Are you calling to talk with Eren Yeager?" God. She was still fucking talking to him. If he was her, he would have hung up or yelled at him for wasting her time "Yes..." "Eren is currently not able to respond. He is allowed visitors. Our visiting hours are between 10am and 2pm, Monday to Friday. And 9am and 4pm on Saturdays and Sundays. If you would like to leave a message for him, we are able to pass it on" "Wait. You have a patient named Eren Yeager there?" The woman seemed confused "Yes? Weren't you calling to speak with him? Sir, why don't you give me your name..." Levi hung up his phone. His heart racing as he scrambled out of bed. For the first time in 9 fucking weeks, he had news of Eren. And not just Marcel was dead in his freezer. Shit. Fuck. He needed to get to Karanes. He needed to pack. He needed to shower. Did Eren need clothes? Should he take clothes or a blanket? Eren loved his blankets. Eren couldn't wear a blanket. He should take both. And what about Titan? No. He couldn't take their cat... Titan would have to stay. Eren could see him when he came back. The energy that flooded his body dropped as his feet came to a stop. The "what ifs" of the situation hitting him. The woman said Eren wasn't taking calls. What if he couldn't take calls? What if he got there and Eren didn't want him? What if he got there and Eren wasn't himself? What if they'd done something to him? What if he never wanted to see him again? What if he was dying... No. if he was dying, he'd be in a proper hospital. Why wasn't Eren in a proper hospital? Was he ok? Did he even remember him? He was too intoxicated for this. He needed a shower. He needed to cook his head and calm back down. Shower. He should shower and then pack. His hair needed a cut... and he'd have to message Erwin to say he was going away for a few days... he didn't want Erwin near Eren. Not when he didn't know the full extent of Eren's injuries, and not when this could be a wild goose chase. It could be Reiner or Bertholdt using Eren's name. Fuck. He should have asked for a description. If it was Reiner or Bertholdt, he'd have to do something. Get them out of there. And then? Then what did he do? Kill them? Actually... He didn't trust himself not to... but they could know where Eren actually was... Fuck. Why the fuck did he have to be dealing with this while drunk? This was his own fucking fault. He should have taken better care of himself. For Eren's sake. For Eren's sake he should have remained strong. Stronger than this. He was an alpha. Top of the dynamic hierarchy. Not some stupid beta... Too drunk to drive, Levi booked a plane ticket to Karanes, being a last minute flight, it'd cost him a small fortune. He had no idea why. He'd never been to Karanes, but the cost of the flight to Karanes was the same as two tickets out to Paradis Beach... even when the flight was shorter. Having shit, showered and shaved, he'd felt more human than he had in days, until he was forced the enjoy the not so lovely recycled air of the flight. The wet smell seemed to cling to him, even once he'd gotten off the plane and made his way outside the airport, and into the first available taxi. Everything he needed had fit into his carry on luggage. Though it had been extremely tempting to pack Eren's whole wardrobe so his boyfriend would be comfortable. * It was well after hours when the taxi finally pulled up in front of Karanes Psychiatric Hospital. Levi hadn't even considered booking a hotel or anything, his mind too preoccupied with the possibility of Eren waiting for him. Gathering his bag and Eren's backpack from the taxi, he climbed from it with a sigh. The place didn't look the nicest... at least not nice enough for Eren. The tall grey building looked like a prison, so much so, that even the sad excuse of a garden didn't inject any happiness into the environment. Walking up to the front door, he frowned at the fact it was locked. Pressing the intercom, he could almost imagine the grumpy woman on the other end "Visiting hours are over" "I was contacted by Leah regarding a patient. Eren Yeager?" There was a buzz, followed by a click and the door opened. Grabbing the handle before she could change her mind and lock him out again, Levi stepped into the foyer. The place stank of lavender, whoever cleaned or whatever was being sprayed, some shitty arsehole needed to learn moderation. Carrying his and Eren's bags over to the reception, the woman behind the counter gave him a bored look "Leah will be down shortly. I need you to fill this in. Any personal belongings will need to be left here. No phones. No laptops. No electronics. And you will be monitored for the duration of your visit" This definitely wasn't the right place for Eren to be. His boyfriend would be fucking terrified. Angered at the lack of empathy shown, and the lack of acceptable conditions. He nearly snapped the pen given to him to fill in the forms. The woman taking photo copies of his ID, then giving him a box to dump both his bags in. Ignoring him, it was a long wait before another woman appeared. Smiling, her brown-grey hair was piled up in a messy bun "Are you Levi?" Rising to his feet, Levi nodded. His arse long since numb from the single plastic chair available "Levi Ackerman. And I assume you're Leah?" "Yes. It's lovely to meet you. Now, I'm sure you must have a lot of questions of how Eren came to be in our care, but the first thing you need to know is that he is currently sedated. He was quite distressed when he was first brought in, so sedation was necessary in order for him to get some rest" Levi hated the fact his lover was sedated, but he could understand it "He has PTS, depression and severe anxiety. He also has a history of self harming without consciously realising what he is doing" Leah nodded, her smile didn't waver "The first thing he did when he settled was provide your name and number" That was his omega... he'd remembered... Levi's alpha swelled with pride "I'm his alpha. He lives with me in Shinganshima" "Shinganshima? That's quite a journey" "That's very true. Look. Are you sure this is Eren?" Leah sighed "To be honest, I saw one of your posts of social media. Eren is currently non-verbal, and other than your details, he hasn't made any other attempts to communicate. If he hadn't provided your name or number, I most likely would have ignored the post. The number of alphas who track down their omega partners..." Non-verbal was never good, Eren had said he was non-verbal before and that was after being fucking tortured. Ok. He'd need to be prepared for that... it was just... having his post ignored. That pissed him off. He was perfectly alright person, at a distance and not when people were trying to hurt Eren... or making a mess. Ok. He was short and shitty. But Eren brought out the best in him "I used to work as a paramedic. I know all about that" Leah kept up the small talk until they finally reached a plain grey door "This is it. He may be sleeping, we've administer his medication for the night" 5pm seemed way too early for night meds. Part of him wanted Eren to be sleeping, but the bigger part was shaking with fear. His omega... his omega was supposed to be behind that door, but what if he wasn't? What happened then? Laying on his side, with his back to the wall, the omega was snoring softly. A mass of messy brown hair poking up from under the edge of the blanket. Sniffing the air, he found he couldn't smell any of Eren's telltale scents, and for a moment, his heart dropped "Go on. Technically I'm supposed to wake him, but we haven't even been able to confirm his name. He asked for you, so he must have known you'd come" Feeling oddly jittery, Levi nearly tripped over his own two feet as he crossed to the sleeping omega. Gently brushing the hair back from the man's face, a smile formed on his lips at Eren's sleeping features, as his knees gave out. Wrapping an arm around Eren, he started to sob earnest tears. His brat was so warm and alive. Being so close, he could catch just the faintest traces of his scent, rousing the deep instinct to protect. It was his Eren. Beneath his hold, Eren gave a sleepy groan, turning in confusion, before bright green eyes opened wide. His boyfriend's happiness was overwhelming "Hey, brat" Reaching out, he cupped Eren's face. Eren immediately nuzzling into the touch, letting out a rumbling purr as he did. Opening his mouth, the omega's smile turned to sadness. Fuck. He didn't want Eren to start crying. He didn't want his omega to think he thought any less of him "It's ok. I know, and it's ok. We'll figure this out, but for now, what matters most is that you're ok" Nodding as he nuzzled, Eren kissed his palm, closing his eyes as if drinking in the touch. Fuck. He couldn't help himself. Leaning in Levi's lips found Eren's, the kiss soft and followed by a second and third. His beautiful boyfriend was back, and alive. The circumstances behind Eren's return would have to wait for another day. All that mattered was that he was back with him. Back where he belonged "I fucking love you" Eren snorted, throwing his arms around him as he nuzzled his cheek enthusiastically "This is the most active I've seen him since he was admitted" "Yeah. He's a ball of energy usually. When can I take him home?" Leah sighed softly "I'm sorry, we cannot discharge patients without the director's approval, and he won't be in until tomorrow morning" Tomorrow. Tomorrow meant leaving Eren here for another night and he wasn't ok with that. Eren didn't seem ok with it either, his boyfriend tensing "Shhh. I'm here. It's going to be ok..." Eren clung to him like there was no tomorrow. Levi's knees were starting to ache from the cold concrete floor, his right knee especially protesting the rough treatment "Let me lift you. Ok? Here, up we go" Lifting Eren, Levi's knees groaned as he repositioned him, his omega hiding his face against his shoulder. Without thinking, Levi's hand moved down Eren's side, before resting in his boyfriend's lap. Brushing against Eren's thin shirt, he noticed the slight amount of stomach. Frowning in confusion, Eren sucked in a shuddering breath as Levi slid his hand across his stomach. The smallest of bumps beneath his fingers. Eren was pregnant? Levi's stomach dropped, the change in his scent obviously upsetting Eren as the omega started to sob against him. His alpha roared in anger. This was their omega. No one else had the right to be touching him... not like that. Not to impregnate him with their pup. That was Levi's right, and his alone. His anger shook his whole frame, taxing his alcohol taxed brain as he tried to rein it back in. This was his Eren. He loved Eren... even if Eren was now carrying a pup. He could never hurt him, or abandon him for something like this. Not that he could do either anyway "And this. We'll get through this. This doesn't make me love you any less" He'd have to make an appointment with Eren's doctor and organise an ultrasound. The last time they'd had sex... was what? 11 weeks. 11 weeks ago in the shower... Eren had been having a rough night with his post heat depression. His love had woken up a crying wreck... it was just before the Ball... They'd taken a shower together, so he could take care of Eren and get him calmed again. It hadn't been the best sex, Eren had cried and kind of put a dampener on the mood, but his lover had settled when knotted... If Eren was around the ten to eleven week mark, then there was a fair chance the child was his... Fuck... Eren was pregnant. This... was a thing. A big thing. He didn't know what to do for a baby! Anna slept like crazy. Did all babies do that? And what if it wasn't his? Would Eren want to keep it? His lover desperately wanted a child, and he wasn't going to take that from him... but if another alpha had sired the pup, it wasn't exactly likely to have been consensual. He was going to have to find some way for Eren to communicate with him. They could share a phone... and fuck... Eren hated flying and he was going to have to organise flights back... unless Erwin drove up to collect them. Eren would like that. He liked watching the world when they'd go for a drive. He'd probably have a million missed calls from Erwin. Fuck. That wasn't a conversation he was looking forward too "Levi, I'm sorry, but visiting hours are over for the day. And with Eren now having a name to his face, there are a number of forms we'll need you to fill in" Eren wasn't having it. The hold on him turning painful as the omega's finger tips dug in "Is there anyway I can stay with him longer?" He wasn't ready to let him go. Even if it was overnight. That was way too long "Well..." He understood she was just trying to do her job. But this was Eren. His Eren. His Eren who'd been missing 11 fucking weeks "I'm sorry. I'm already bending the rules as it is. We can do the bulk of the discharge paperwork tonight, that way you'll be able to take him earlier in the morning. There will still be a wait, but if everything is in order, you should be able to have him out of here before lunch" Lunch was 18 odd hours away. He didn't want to wait 18 fucking hours. But Leah was going out on a limb. He'd done patient transfers to places like this before, and they really didn't appreciate after hour visitors "Ok... Eren. Eren, I have to go. But I promise, first thing tomorrow. First thing tomorrow I'll be back" Shaking his head, Eren started whimpering "You know me. I promise you. I promise I will be back for you" Shit. Eren was melting down. He probably thought he was going to abandon him because he was pregnant "Eren, hey. Here, take my shirt. It's got my scent all over it... and probably some of Titan's fur. He's missed you like crazy" "Levi..." "The shirt's cotton. There's no buttons, rips, tears, zips or ties" He'd been through this before. Though this time he was on this side of the rules, not watching during patient transfers. He'd always gotten annoyed by the sight of those trying to break the rules, and now he understood "Alright. I'll give you two a moment" Trying to pry a clinging Eren off was near on impossible and wouldn't have been able to be accomplished without the sedatives in his system. Losing strength halfway through his fight to hold on, it was a shit feeling to lift Eren off his lap. Taking Eren's thin top off, he couldn't help but stare at the small swell. Eren was too exhausted to do much but blink at him sadly, before Levi manhandled him into his shirt, and replaced the one Eren had been wearing over it "I will be back tomorrow. Very first thing. I don't care what they say, or what they do. I'm taking you home. You're my omega. I love you. I love you and you're coming back home with me. You and the pup. Ok? And no. I don't want to leave you. But Leah has to do her job, and if I cause trouble right now, they might stop me from taking you. I promise, I'll stay. I'll be with you until you fall asleep" Eren growled, but it was completely adorable. Laying him down, his boyfriend tried to fight sleeping. Levi finding his way back to kneeling, kissing and nuzzling into Eren's face as his fingers played with the omega's soft hair. He didn't want the moment to end. Slowly, Eren fell asleep. Dragging his thin blankets back up, he tucked Eren in. Ready to face the paperwork to get Eren the fuck out of here.

[wonderspectacles]

The Beast came equipped with the will of its inheritor. One of the most fearsome Titans, but without a doubt the most adaptable. Its abilities were transformed to benefit its user. Zeke had the arm a pitcher would be most envious of, but purely situational, was his voice. He could overturn the trees, leave the soil moist with blood. Unlike instantaneous healing, his roar didn’t need the body of his titan. Just because of his ploy, Zeke would prove himself right. All of his cards were aligned. 

Except now he decided to humor him.

Which soldier was his favorite? Did he truly care about his damned? Pointless. Zeke didn’t understand his defiance to begin with. Although, being raised on this pitiful island, without the hatred of what was on the other side. Zeke supposed someone like Levi couldn’t understand. Afterall, at war with titans, with less fortune than what the Eldians in Marley received. At least they were taught. His greatest foe very well could’ve been Bertholdt during their siege those years ago.

“Now you’re just being unkind, Ackerman,” Zeke scolded, tsking. “You don’t expect me to sit here without any food, do you?” Food was somewhat scarce as it was, at least for him. Shelter, water, and even strategy, was a pleasure Zeke wasn’t given. Possibly a right for these troops, but Zeke was an outsider. Offered beforehand, a week ago, might’ve been a stale piece of bread. Believed if he ate quick enough, the mold would have turned invisible. His previous babysitter had no history with him. Zeke’s was the island’s history. Their island was reduced to a morgue in under twelve hours.

He couldn’t teach a hound to read. Zeke was their race’s salvation. All he was required to be right now, was patient. An opening was what he needed. Zeke couldn’t blast through with the agility of the Female or Attack Titan. He heard what Levi was capable of, and lived it from  recurring memory. Brute strength wouldn’t break this man. Some finesse, and one spontaneous move, and Levi would be an afterthought. Fiendishly, he dared himself to wonder if he even needed to steal such an easy victory. If the extremity of spiked wine was the only path. 

In wolves, the hierarchies were set, teeth and claws, willfully hurting their underdog, forcing them to grovel. To submit. They weren’t friends, or even comrades. Zeke was meant for greater things than to bow his head. Not to the enemy. He almost had to pity him. A fine way to rationalize his own demise. If he continued living, without cutting a few strings along the way, it all would have been worth something. 

“Help yourself.” He smiled. Either way, his book would have been stolen. Better to maintain his composure. His pulse was still climbing down from that shot. “If you’re having a hard time reading it, I can give you a play by play. I make pretty strong character voices.”

— Zeke Yeager | @wonderspectacles

He had to admit it to himself, before he could think of expressing it on his face, which had oozed smugness, there was a second or two where he panicked. Hair at the back of his neck stood on end, feeling a dozen barrels pointed at him. Death was something Zeke evaded many times. Now he had the finest honor of relishing in the captain’s company, with his little subordinates. His prize, something he earned, for washing away his commander, wasn’t a medal, but a barrel aligned just perfectly to his skull. It wasn’t the hesitance to kill which stopped Levi, he’s seen him fight, the man was a monster, but the very reason he hadn’t slit his throat on that airship.

Levi needed him.

Miles away from the walls of Paradis, was the forest they currently inhabited, likely laced with greedy parasites in the trees, but no true predator. Even by horse could no one reach them in time. And certainly not hauling a mindless titan. For how his soldiers flinched around him, there wasn’t a chance a squad could be tasked, or competent enough to lead his successor. Zeke would have long bonded with the mulch and dirt.

He saw it in Levi’s eyes. Ferocity alone, he was a lion waiting to gnaw the hind leg of an antelope, and despite his calculations, Levi easily had the means to pull the trigger. Silver eyes met Levi’s with arrogance, one indisputable fact, both of them understood. He couldn’t do it. Yet, his stomach was ice cold with something he couldn’t name.

He drew in a slow breath.

BANG!

Birds scattered from their perch at the draw of a well aimed shot. The noise got lost in the thick of the forest.

Pressure immediately left his wrists, but he felt the beginnings of soreness creeping into his body. Zeke leaned forward to pick up the bullet that rolled beside his boot.

The subject of their disdain, or rather Levi’s hatred, came to mind. Someone he forgot the name of the day Reiner brought up the regiment, and someone who could have been a pebble beneath his feet. If his esteemed commander ordered Levi to kill him, to bring their flimsy plan to ruin, maybe, just maybe Levi would have rolled over and brought him a bone while he was at it. Zeke had to laugh.

“Ah! Much better,” Zeke said, disregarding the look in Levi’s eyes. “Now, would a bowl of soup also be out of the question?” Zeke wasn’t sure if he wanted to continue testing his violence. Pain didn’t particularly worry him, but with Levi at the hilt of the blade, he was reasonably hesitant. Those would be wounds he had to suffer with since his healing stunted, and there was no way in hell Zeke could challenge Levi in a brawl with only his fists.

Arrogance. That look in the beast’s eyes, holding the certainty of a winner in a game with no rules or safe bets. Incapable of looking past his pride, the man would falsely believe to be the one to hold the power. The master of a plan, when he would only be treated as a tool, when the time was about to come. Unless he had another idea of what would become of him. Unless they were all acting, playing the roles they were worst at: Zeke as Eldia’s last hope, and Levi as the grateful host.

Levi wasn’t supposed to treat him like that, like a means to their cause, but as their valuable ally — an ally to have nearly annihilated the Survey Corps. One he was ordered to look after, and treat with the minimum tolerance he could stand showing. Feed his ego, let him buy his own fairytale. Let him believe he was the one having the upper hand, when it’d be the other way around. This was the only reason he held back on beating him to a pulp. The expectancy of the look on the monkey’s face, when he would have been cut to pieces like the piece of meat he was.

With Erwin’s death, and his unfulfilled promise to kill him, feelings to belong to the past, as if to somebody else, someone he had forgotten about, had reawakened inside of him. The almost irresistible urge to kill another human. There was a part of his past almost nobody knew about, a secret to have died with the last to have known and accepted him fully — was it a secret, or a horrible truth they had chosen to overlook — that he had murdered people. Violence was meant to be repaid with violence in the underground, and Levi had gotten tired of watching the blood flow endlessly in his time as a thug. Something the other was blissfully unaware of. That Titans hadn’t always been his enemy.

“ Valis. Please make sure our guest won’t eat or drink anything for the next three days. Since he seems not to be fond of the food we provide. ” He’d certainly enjoy watching him fade away, but this wasn’t the plan. It was a game of dominance, the one they played and he had no intention to give the blond bastard the slightest hope he’d let him win. He was in control, and in every attempt to defy him, Zeke would pay one price bigger than the other. Maybe, instead of playing at being the kind host, Levi could enjoy his time by trying to break him. It would only be between the two of them and his squad, wouldn’t it? But a broken puppet wouldn’t suffice in the play they had prepared, wouldn’t it?

He moved to pick up the book the other had been reading. “ Come on, I’m doing you a favor. You won’t need to shit for a while. ” His attention turned to the last opened page of the book, only to be reminded, that their alphabet was different. He’d only stare at a bunch of symbols to make absolutely no sense. How convenient for the bastard. “ You won’t need this, will you? ” he asked, but it wasn’t a question expecting an answer. “ I was thinking about giving it a try. ” Better say, taking the last thing that could keep him somewhat busy.

[deborahdeshoftim5779]

Questions for High School Musical II

I consider myself a disciple of the hard slog, and so if I have to endure torture to achieve a certain end, then I will do so. In such benevolence, I choose to rewatch High School Musical II and III, often in handcuffs and a gag so that I won’t hit anything in fury or scream at the laptop screen. From time to time, you might hear a muffled “Oh shutup”, often directed at Gabriella, and by the end, I end up cutting the movie short. I have, however, tasked myself in writing movie commentary for the second and third movie, which has the added benefit of helping me meet my daily word count of at least 1500 words. 

Since I have no regulatory body over my head, I can quite freely give you the most biased interpretation of HSM II that you will ever read. Here we have a young, mature high school student who is worried about securing finance for his further education. To his complete surprise, he is offered a job at an exclusive country club, which would promise a great salary and great contacts. Rather than taking the opportunity just for himself, he goes out of his way to secure a position for his girlfriend and all his friends, giving them glowing recommendations. However, given that his own hiring was part of East High’s Prima Girl’s plot to sexually entrap him, and given that he receives a series of privileges related to his position, his friends turn against him as his promotions limit the amount of time he can spend with them. Once they have broken him down and convinced him of his inherent selfishness; once his girlfriend has left him in a fit of righteousness based on a cocktail of distortions and guilt-tripping, he comes grovelling back to his friends, taking all the blame for something the Prima Girl did and for daring to care about his future. 

I do not pretend to have understood all of this on the first watch. This has come to me after reading meta analysis and rewatching with a more critical frame of mind. So here are my list of questions and prompts for this movie based on the above thoughts. 

On Gabriella’s Quitting

According to the canonical narrative, Gabriella quits her job at Lava Springs because 1)- she is tired of Sharpay’s games and 2)- Troy has changed. 

And so I ask the following:

1)- Prior to Gabriella’s claim that she wanted a summer to remember, she had expressed a desire to find employment. From Taylor’s dialogue, we hear that the two of them were becoming frustrated with their lack of success. Was it wise for Gabriella to quit her job if she was struggling elsewhere?

2)- Whilst being banned from the Talent Show was disappointing, that was not the reason that Gabriella took the job. It was simply an added benefit. So are her reasons for quitting justified? If anyone had a reason to quit, it would be Kelsi, who was writing for the show. Her role as a lifeguard was far more important to the running of the club, so doesn’t this lessen the value of her quitting?

On Gabriella’s accusations against Troy

1)- “...us working together sounded like a good idea.” How does she define “working together”? I take a literal view of this quote, and I see that they were not working together by any conventional stretch of the imagination. Am I missing something?

2)- “...but plans change and people change.” First of all, I assert that this is patently false. I see nothing in Troy’s behaviour that indicated a fundamental change in morals. At the very worst, he was inconsiderate (during the scene where he practically ignored Chad whilst speaking to the Redhawk guy), but that was it. Otherwise, he was polite to everyone-- even to Sharpay, who had spent most of her time relentlessly pursuing him. Despite being unqualified to teach golf, he was polite to all the kids, polite to Mr. Fulton despite being followed by the man, kind to his friends (having secured them all jobs) and bending over backwards for Gabriella. 

By comparison, Chad was incredibly rude, from poking fun at Troy and showing no sympathy to his struggles, to shouting at Troy in front of everyone on the slimmest provocation, to falsely claiming that Troy had been a jerk during the laughable “apology” scene WITHOUT acknowledging his own culpability. Zeke was also rude, poking fun at Troy and giving him dirty looks. Jason was rude, turning his back on Troy for no reason. Taylor was incredibly and quite unjustifiably mean to Troy, which puzzles me. After the gang practice “You Are The Music In Me”, Taylor seems kind and encouraging towards Troy, encouraging him to sign up for the Talent Show with a smile. Not long afterwards, she claims Troy forgot his date, without waiting to see the reason why (his wearing a suit might have been a clue to someone as smart as Taylor), and then she was planting unjustified suspicion in Gabriella’s head about Troy’s behaviour despite having heard (and I know this, because I’ve replayed the scene several times to be sure) Troy being clearly reluctant to sing with Sharpay. To Gabriella’s credit, she actually defends Troy in that scene, showing that she trusts him. I would have liked to have seen an apology from Taylor to Gabriella at the very least for misleading her throughout this movie. 

Wherein lies the change?

3- Gabriella accuses Troy of “missing dates”. The “freaky math girl” struggles to differentiate between singular and plural and has a gloriously short-term memory. Troy missed ONE date. Not several. One. The reason for this was due to his busy schedule and the importance of securing favour with the Evans father for his scholarship opportunities. He set up the picnic in clear defiance of Club rules. He was late for the dinner/swim because of circumstances beyond his control (Gabriella quite commendably waited up for him); being late is not the same as missing a date. (Or forgetting one, as Taylor claims). The only “date” that Troy missed was free cheeseburgers in the kitchen. Call me heartless, but I think Gabriella will survive. Troy offered an apology and a reasonable explanation for missing this date. Now, it may be likely that Troy’s increasingly busy schedule would have limited his ability to keep more dates, but let’s not forget that by this time, Troy and Gabriella had been dating for the entire school year. It is reasonable to assume that they would have shared many dates. (Troy arranging all of them, of course). So I struggle to sympathise with the horror of losing out on free cheeseburgers. 

Likewise, with the “blowing off your friends” accusation; Troy’s schedule required him to be called away on short notice. With the exception of his rather inconsiderate behaviour towards Chad at lunchtime (the same time he was supposed to produce free cheeseburgers), nothing in Troy’s behaviour suggested that he was intentionally avoiding his friends. In fact, he had even offered to practice with his friends moments before Chad blew a fuse and yelled at him for allegedly being selfish. (Troy’s hurt face at the end of that scene is heartbreaking). And notice that NO ONE came to Troy’s defence throughout this shouting match, because apparently ganging up on Troy doesn’t count as bad friendship, but Troy not giving you 100% attention due to future/career concerns is. 

Would it be fair to say Gabriella’s claims here are patently false?

4)- Even if Troy had been as objectionable as Gabriella claims, NONE of those sins stopped her from doing the job that she was being paid (quite reasonably, we can assume) to do. None. If she was pissed with Troy, she could still have watched over the pool. 

What, therefore, makes her complaint valid?

(TO BE CONTINUED)

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

DOTW 45 - update...

Levi was in a bad state. Floch had tracked down the real Marcel Galliard, only to find the man dead and locked in his own chest freezer. The house had been recently abandoned, and clues were running dry. Being unable to work, he had all the time in the world to drive himself insane. All the time in the world to play out every possible scenario of Eren's abduction. They'd found that the "heart attack" victim, had been paid to call in the emergency. He'd thought it a prank. A stranger having approached him and paid him $100 just to make a simple call to prank his friend. The man didn't even know Levi and Eren both lived in the building, and he'd already spent the cash so there was no way of tracking down the bills he was paid with. The ambulance used to transport Eren was found on the outskirts of the city, the same night Levi had come home. There'd been blood at scene, though it hadn't been Eren's, it was enough to drive the spike of fear deeper into his heart. If Eren had fought, his boyfriend could be out there somewhere in a critical condition. Levi couldn't even sleep without seeing Eren. His dreams never once being kind to him, as Eren blamed him for his death, over and over... For the first month after Eren disappeared, he, Hanji and Anna, and Erwin had all been living together in a "safe" house that Floch had organised. They hadn't had access to the outside world. He'd nearly gone crazy from Hanji mothering him, and Erwin trying to father him. He wasn't a fucking child. He didn't need the guilt of their concern on top of his own guilt. Titan had hated the safe house, so the moment one month was up, Levi had returned back to his apartment. If Eren was out there and trying to get home, then he'd be there waiting for him. Even if it took the rest of his life. * Drenched in blood, Eren stumbled down the dirt road. His body was shaking with shock, his hair wild from lack of care and his bottom lip chewed to something resembling a bloody pulp. The cold night wind seemed to rip through his near naked body, while the knife in his right hand seemed to be the only thing he was acutely aware of. The day he'd been taken from the apartment, his world had been turned upside down. In that moment, it was like someone spinning a mirror in its stand. As it gradually slowed, he was left looking at a sight that disgusted him, as much as it confused him. His father was standing there. His father who'd walked out and left him, was now the one coming for him. He'd thought the man dead, yet he showed up, screaming at him that they had to leave. Bertholdt and Reiner were the ones who were the ones who'd supposed to come for him. He'd say there, through the night and watched the door. The largest and sharpest knife in the house was his only protection. But his father. His father hadn't been expected. The desire to kill the man where stood was only bested by his need to know. And now, he'd give almost everything not to. Still. He'd left with him. He'd written what he needed to Levi, praying that his boyfriend would understand the things he was trying to say. The things he'd written just that little bit bigger without making it too obvious. Given the degree of shock he'd been in, and that he'd had to pull himself out of an impending panic attack, he'd been proud he'd been able to write anything at all. Taken down by elevator, Bertholdt joined them in the narrow space. Again. He didn't understand. Bertholdt had blamed the whole thing on his father. He'd cursed him, and told him end up dead, just like him. So why was the alpha now sullenly following his father's orders? The thoughts in his head wouldn't stop. His breathing ragged, as if he'd already done the runner he was planning too. For nearly fucking decade, he'd thought he was dead. He'd thought the man had forgotten he'd even existed, and that's why he'd up abandoned. Just having his father next to him was enough to make him physically ill, to the point when the elevator doors opened to the ground floor, he'd fainted. Waking up, he was in a small room. It was basic. Very basic, but he counted his blessings that it wasn't a basement. Sitting on the end of his bed, his father was reading... like he was some fucking right to be there. Trying to find his voice, nothing came forth. He wanted to scream, or at least tell his father to let him go. With a heavy sigh, the man closed the book he'd been reading. The look on his face unreadable as he turned to him. This was the face of the man who'd hurt him. Who'd killed his mother and beat him for being an omega. The face of the man who wanted to sell him off. Who considered him defective and dirty for having a second dynamic he couldn't help. The face of the man who'd fucking ruined his life "Eren, I hoped we wouldn't meet like this. I'm sure you must have some questions" Yeah. Like how the fuck did he get out of here?! And where was here? That was about it. He didn't want to know what his father had been doing, and he didn't care to know. The man had left him when he'd needed him the most "You're right. There are some things words cannot say alone. Not when those are listening. Perhaps it would be easier to show you" Eren wanted to protest, but again, nothing came out. His father rose from the end of the bed, walking to stand next to where he sat. Reaching out his hand, Eren recoiled from touch. His face filled with disgust. Just the scent of his father was enough to have him vomiting in his mouth "Eren, either you come with me, or we have you moved to less agreeable accomodations until you learn your place" Learn his place? He knew his fucking place. It was in Shinganshima, with Titan and Levi. It was waking up in Levi's arms, and cuddling on the sofa. This place. Was not his place "You have until three to decide, then I'll be deciding for you. One. Two..." Not giving him any time to think, Eren scrambled from the bed before his father could say three "Excellent. Zeke's training was effective, I see" Eren's throat tightened at the mention of Zeke's name. How did his father know about that? Or how Zeke had trained him... "You will follow me. You will be silent and if you run, we will chain you. Do I make myself understood?" Unable to speak, Eren nodded "Come along then" Blinded as the excited the room, he found himself in some kind of world that looked like it'd been lifted from a movie. The whole area was set in a wide circle, various people coming and going from the stark white buildings. Moving towards the building opposite them, Eren followed. There was something about this whole place that scent a chill through him. This wasn't good place. It felt cold and empty. Like everyone was here, didn't want to be. Trailing after his father, his bare feet froze against the damp grass. Trust Grisha to ruin everything he could for him, grass now included. Despite the humble outside of the building, Eren smelt disinfectant as he walked into what seemed to be some kind of laboratory. Once again, everything was too white, and the glass was just way too clean. With no time to stop and take it all in, he followed blindly until they reached a set of heavy dark doors, the silver handles looking imposing as fuck. He definitely wasn't supposed to be here. Taking two steps back, his heart was pounding hard enough for him to hear it. Turning and catching sight of him, Grisha covered the distance between them, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him forward "You will obey me, or they will kill you" What the fuck. Whoever "they" were, made plenty of empty fucking threats and promises. He was supposed to be dead already, not in some kind of fucked up dream world where his father was alive. Gripping his arm so hard that it hurt, he was pulled to the doors, Grisha giving a single knock before entering. Inside the room was decked in black. Even the plants either side or the desk seemed to be black. The space feeling so heavy and oppressive, it was hard to remain standing. Seated at the long oval table that filled most of the room, 11 sets of eyes were on him as he pulled over and manhandled down into a chair, his father taking the seat next to him "Eren Yeager" His name was said like it was a hair ball being coughed up. The old man at the end of the table looked slightly familiar, but he couldn't place it. Seated to his left, were Reiner and Bertholdt, both alphas looking like scared rabbits, rather than killers "Eren. We understand you've been causing some problems for all of us. Under your father's recommendation, we have decided to liberate you from your current life. Do you understand?" He understood nothing. Glaring back at the man seated directly opposite him, he crossed his arms "Grisha. You assured me the boy would talk" "And he will" "You know the penalty if he does not" Under the table, his father kicked him. What were they? 12? "It has come to our attention that you have been communicating with the Shinganshima Police Department, and with a certain officer Floch Forster" Floch had a last name? Dah. Of course people had last names "Eren, you seem to be under the impression we are bad people. We are not, and we hope that in time, you will see the mistakes you have made. Grisha, return him to his room" That was it? He was dragged up here, for that? Fucking seriously? He had more questions that fucking answers, and he still had no idea where the fuck he was. Was this a cult? Had his father really abandoned him, to join this fucking cult? He'd seen enough TV to know cults were filled with weirdos, and that these things never worked out well for anyone involved. In the movies, everyone always ended up dead with a lone survivor walking off into the distance as the place burned to the ground. Is that what he'd been caught up in? Escorted back to his room, his father didn't stay. Maybe he got that Eren wanted absolutely nothing to do with him... or more likely, he had to go grovel to whoever those people in that room had been... If the alpha thought he was simply going to take all of this, without a word of real explanation, he was sadly mistaken. For the first week Eren was kept isolated from everyone. His father brought him meals, and took him to what seemed to be a communal shower block. The number of omegas in the place took him by surprise, as did the number of children. It didn't look like a place for children, and none of them looked happy about it. No one talked either. Normally a pregnant omega took comfort in being with other omega's, but here, everyone tried to avoid everyone else. Something was going on here and he didn't like it. Nor was he going to let things keep going like this. His own omega was distraught from their smells, leaving him constantly on edge. He still hadn't been able to find his voice, but he had found that his door locked from the outside, which was useless, but his window. His window was wonky in its frame. That he might be able to use. His plans were dashed when he was moved into the same room as his father. Ninety percent of the room was filled from floor to ceiling with medical technology that meant nothing to him. Two small beds sat at the rear of the room, once covered with books. Locked in with his father, the first thing Grisha did was throw his arms around him, holding him tight like a loving father would "It's safe to talk here. I never meant to get you involved with any of this" Well that was a load of shit. If he hadn't wanted him involved, he could have fucking left him with Levi "Look, you may not believe me, but all I wanted was to keep you safe. What happened with your mother... I wish it could have been avoided. And then with Zeke. Zeke did well. He kept you safe and hidden..." Shoving his father off him, he bared his teeth as he snarled "Eren..." Trying to form his words, nothing happened. Instead he stood there like the angry idiot he was "Eren, it's ok. I know you must have a lot of questions, but for now, know that I had to drive you away. I had to make sure you wouldn't track me down, or come after me. I'm sorry for what happened. I was a fool. I was a coward. I tried to find a way out of this all... but now... no. Never mind. Just know, that if you do as they say, things will go much smoother... this... this was all I could do to keep you alive. Read the books on your bed, then you'll understand" Eren ignored the books for as long as he could. He couldn't calm down with his father acting so "normal" around him. Nothing about this was normal. Nothing about this place was normal. On the dresser that sat between his and his father's bed, were photos. Photos Eren felt Grisha had no right to have. Not only were they of his mother, but also of Zeke and Zeke's mother. It was bad enough that they were on display, but out of all the photos in the small collection, most of them were of him. Including recent photos of him with Levi. He'd suspected they were being watched, but there was no real evidence, other than Bertholdt working with Levi, and he hadn't known about that until months after it'd first started. Photos of him coming out of Krista's office. In Paradis. At the hospital. At Moblit's wake. The most recent was of him at the Charity Ball with Levi on his arm. It was sickening. He didn't want anything to do with Grisha. He'd rather... he'd rather be trapped in a room with Reiner and Bertholdt than sharing this room with his father. At least he knew the pair wanted him dead. He knew what they wanted from him, and who they were. His father on the other hand was a stranger from his nightmares. He probably wished Eren had been wasted across the sheets rather than ever be conceived. His father noticed that he hadn't read the books on his bed almost immediately. The man held off saying anything, until Eren was woken in the middle of the night. His father already awake, but the knocking on their door couldn't be ignored. Beckoned to follow, Eren was freezing in the thin white clothes he'd been gifted. He didn't even have time to slide his shoes on before he was being lead through the central courtyard area. Yeah. They were definitely in some kind of cult. Called to deliver a pup, Eren nearly bolted from the room the moment he realised what was going on. The poor woman had been left to ordeal everything alone, while two stocky alphas stood guard outside her room. Directed to hold her hand, and support her, he was grateful he didn't have to be down the other again. Birth might be a miracle, but staring at people's private parts was gross. Just because everyone had them, didn't mean they needed to show them off or anything... and he had no idea how people could work with those areas... it was not for him. Having been left until nearly the final moment, the female omega was a mess, the birth over in three pushes, and the baby a healthy girl. He was so fucking angry. The girl was taken from the mother with one of the waiting alphas like it was a normal thing to do. The woman was crying for her pup and he couldn't fucking do anything about it. Once his father had made sure he was alright, they'd been escorted back to their room, and his father had pushed the books he'd been ignore into his hands. He didn't know why he needed to read them, not when the moment he figured out how to get out of wherever he was, he was gone. He'd done some fucked up things in his life, but whatever this was... he didn't want any part of this. * Levi may have overindulged with his drinking the previous night. Though, he didn't know if was classed as overindulging, when he was still drinking. Erwin had decided he was fucking moving in 7 weeks after Eren's disappearance. It wasn't like Levi was still falling apart. He would have had to stop falling apart for that to happen. He'd plastered as many missing posters of Eren as he could onto their social media accounts, as well as printing physical copies, and distributing them everywhere he could. Each day got harder. Waking up without Eren by his side. Without his sleepy smile. His soft purrs and messy bedhead. The way he reached out for him if Levi moved away. The way Eren would smile as he snuggled into him, and would mumble his name in his sleep. His phone was constantly by his side in case Eren found a way to called him. Floch was still looking for Eren, without making things too obvious. He'd been sideswiped while driving, barely able to prevent his car from rolling, shortly after the discovery of Marcel's body. Floch was now working personally under Dot Pixis as an internal review was being conducted through the precinct. Being on the outside, he had no way of knowing what had been discovered, and the daily calls to the man in the hopes of news, had become weekly instead. Every time a dead body was found and reported on the news, Levi's heart would break a little more. He didn't want to find Eren dead. He just wanted to find him. He wanted things to go back to how they'd been... his apartment resembled more of a pigsty than a abode. The dishes sitting in the sink for days at a time, while the only actually shopping he did was for Titan, or printer ink when he'd run out from printing missing person flyers. Eren's room was just the way he'd left it. Erwin was sleeping on the sofa, with the hopes that he'd just fuck off back home. A fine layer of dust had settled over everything, but if he washed Eren's blankets, he'd be washing away Eren's scent, and he wasn't strong enough to do that. He needed his omega. Or he needed to make enough noise that Reiner and Bertholdt would come for him. He'd named and shamed them on social media, and still, nothing had happened. Eren had said they'd be after him once he was dead, yet it seemed more like once they'd gotten Eren, they couldn't give two fucks about everyone else...