#and that's so funny to me because we get along great because of how contradictory we are

[carbonated-fenwater]

My incredibly pragmatic irish mother, who has never thought about anything deeply in her life and thinks poetry is objectively stupid, looking at her stoner ecologist trans child who's writing a book on philosophy: where did this come from??

My depressed bisexual father who grew weed in our basement, had a pet caiman as a teenager, and who she met at their local hang gliding group:

[rahuratna]

Hi! I have a one am musing 🥹

I was rewatching jjk season one (I still haven’t finished season two but I need to cope LOL) and now I’m able to pick up all the little details we talked about before. *heart melts*

It’s so crazy to me how in the very beginning Nanami didn’t acknowledge Yuji as a sorcerer, and by the end, he told Yuji to be the one to take over from here. It’s so bittersweet…

Tbh, the very first time I watched that episode, I was super shocked and thought Nanami was patronizing Yuji. And then I learned that wasn’t the case. He was being very matter-of-fact about it and knows Yuji has a lot of room to grow 🥹💕💕

Yuji was super eager to prove himself to Nanami, and then Nanami was like “frankly I don’t give a shit.” But in reality, he really does as he gets to learn more about Yuji, and so while I was terribly upset with s2 ep 18, his last words were the perfect conclusion.

(This is just a side note but I like it more when writers show off Nanami’s practical-minded nature more. How it may seem cold and standoffish at first but it wasn’t intended that way. I wish I got to see more of Nanami being blunt with criticism since different people could react differently to it and it’s who he is!)

———-

I also realized that Gojo got new glasses LMAO. Didn’t see it before, but his high school ones were circular and his newer ones are more oval. I kinda glossed over it when he shops for new glasses in the “Lost in Paradise” ending. I personally like his high school sunglasses better. What about you?

Hi! And thanks for these lovely 1 am musings. It always makes my day to see one waiting for me 🤭 I also needed to take a moment to cope before moving on with season 2 (didn't help much, but necessary).

Nanami initially struck me as very contradictory, because there he was, taking a jab at the system (in his capacity as both a salaryman and as a sorcerer), saying that "work is shit", but also bowing formally to a teenager when he introduced himself and wearing a full business suit to kill curses!

I saw his lack of acknowledgement of Yuuji as another "fuck you" to the system. Here was Yuuji, a vessel to one of the most powerful curse users to ever exist, and he was essentially treating him as just another kid. I didn't necessarily see it in a good or bad light, it just struck me as a very deliberate choice on Nanami's part.

Of course, his later actions and his background showcased these things in a completely new way. Like you said, he cares a great deal for Yuuji and the younger generation of sorcerers. The fact that his last words to Yuuji were "you take it from here" is such a fitting culmination to his character arc.

He saw his duty as a guardian and protector of the young and the weak finally coming to an end, because they were now able to protect themselves better than he could. He saw Yuuji as completely fitting of carrying his legacy forward, and so let him know that he could now pass in peace.

I, also, wish we could have seen more of Nanami's interactions with others. The way Ijichi is actually more terrified of Nanami scolding him than anything else, describing him as the 'ultimate adult' or something along those lines, will never not be funny to me. Especially since Nanami is the type of man to never raise his voice in a professional setting. His pragmatic nature would probably have given us many more moments of misunderstandings, sweetness and humour, should it have been explored in greater detail.

------------

As to Gojo's sunglasses, I do like the older style better! They reflected a lot of his irreverent, cheeky and offbeat personality. I suppose the oval shape is a style choice that changed as he grew older and matured, but yeah, I definitely preferred round lenses better!

[penforthewin]

I really like your analysis of MK1's storyline, specifically with Bi-Han. I totally agree that there are some significant plot holes and missing context in the story. Bi-Han in particular seemed weird to me I guess? His betrayal just stood out as really weird to me.

Like, there should have been more build up or something. Idk, maybe it was obvious to everyone but me, but his betrayal actually caught me off guard. I even thought it was a fake-out till he injured Kuai.

(I just don't know why Bi-Han would expect Kuai to go along with Shang Tsung. Even if Bi-Han believed his brothers would stick by him over Liu Kang, there's no way he would have thought they'd team up with Shang Tsung, right? Kuai Liang is honorable and someone who protects the weak. He'd never put up with Shang Tsung's and Quan Chi's atrocities.)

I just really want some more backstory. I need to see his perspective. Especially regarding the accident that killed the previous Grandmaster.

Another Thing

Bi-han genuinely seems to regret Sindel's death but still broke out Shao?? His lines with both Mileena and Kitana seem contradictory at times (although that could just be because the conversations take place at different points in time).

Is Bi-han blind to the evil acts his "partners" have done and will do, or does he just not care? If he just doesn't care, I'm really confused at how he turned out so different from his brothers because both of them seem to be very compassionate.

I could go on but this is long enough as it is.

I knew Bi-Han was gonna turn just bc of his goofy ahh voice lmao

You are asking ALL the right questions.

MK1 Bi-Han is ambitious, impulsive, and above all, arrogant. I wouldn't be surprised if Bi-Han was so confident in his decision to betray Earthrealm that he thought he could convince Kuai Liang and Tomas to follow him.

And the "accident" thing is so funny to me. Was it a car crash? Did he fall down the stairs? Buried in an avalanche? Who knows.

Bi-han probably doesn't regret Sindel's death, but he does sympathize with Mileena and Kitana. He strikes me as the "ends justify the means" type of guy. Although he feels the sisters' pain, he's still doing what he has to in order to accomplish his goals. That would mean breaking Shao out of prison... benefits him in some way? Maybe he just wanted to make some noise in order to distract everybody from his shenanigans.

He told Tomas that their mother would "applaude" his actions. To me, that seems like he was closer to their mother than he was to their father. Maybe she is the reason he doesn't see the honor in serving Earthrealm. Maybe she would tell him, "You're destined for more than serving Liu Kang. You will lead the Lin Kuei to greatness."

So other than Bi-Han being a mama's boy, we know nothing about her. It could be possible that she thought Liu Kang was holding the Lin Kuei back and led Bi-Han to think the same way. Not a very evil backstory, but a decent explanation as to why he's so different from his brothers.

Don't get me wrong, I love it when a character is evil for evil's sake. But a character like Bi-Han needs more depth to explain his motivations.

Tldr: Bi-Han has a heart, but he's also hot-headed and will do anything to get what he wants.

Why can't I bring this same energy to my English Lit class like come on brain

EDIT: Corrected something. Bi-Han spoke to Tomas, not Kuai Liang.

[cleflink]

The Mid Air Walk and Jet Black Mystery Train are some of my favorite arcs too! Bust my absolute favorite has to be the 2.5 special, Dual Mystery on a Full Moon Night. The Black Org, Haibara, and Hattori all in one episode, this one has it all! Plus the reveal of Jodie and the FBI was fun. But enough about me, it's time for your next Secret Santa message: Please, tell me, who is your favorite character and why are they so awesome?

-Your Secret Santa

Aaah, yes, that is a fantastic arc! I remember the first time I read it - I was on the edge of my seat the whole time. :)

Sorry for taking so long to get back to you, Santa, but the answer to your question kind of got away from me. Short version: Kuroba Kaito is a flash bastard and I love him.

For the longer version (aka a love letter to Kuroba Kaito), please read on!

I adore characters who are VERY good at what they do, which is something that DCMK spoils me for in general. Kaito fulfills this to the nth degree for me, thanks to his many diverse talents. Magician, thief, acrobat, actor, makeup expert, marksman, genius, the list goes on.

In DC, he's seen from the perspective of Conan and other characters who see him as a showman, eternally showing off (and showing them up) with impeccable flair. I'll never not love his Midair Walk, and the shock that I felt right alongside Conan as I tried to figure out HOW in the hell KID had managed it. I love being an audience member for the Kaitou KID show, to get to enjoy that moment of 'oh my god, he has so much style' and then also get to see Conan unravel the details for us afterwards. In MK, that showman flair is still very present, but we also get to experience the effort and struggles Kaito contends with to be able to pull off his daring heists. Much as I love seeing everything go exactly as planned (with some space for necessary improvisation along the way), seeing the hard work that goes on behind the scenes is wonderfully satisfying and makes me even more impressed by Kaito's talent. Watching Kaito be clever and talented enough to come out on top, despite all the odds in his way, is truly delightful. 

I also might have a type, and that type is quippy, intelligent acrobats (why yes, Spiderman and Nightwing are my two favourite superheroes, how did you guess?). There was no way I was not going to fall for Kaito.

Beyond his impressive skill set, I am endlessly fascinated by Kaito's versatility and flexibility as a character, both in the realm of his disguise/acting abilities and in him as a person. He's funny and charming and clever, but also dorky and lonely and more than a little crazy.

He's the practical joker who pulls crazy stunts to make someone else smile. He's the bored genius who revels in the opportunity to face challenges that are actually challenging. He's the gentleman thief who's always at least two steps ahead of his pursuers. He's the master of disguise who could be literally anyone because both his acting and makeup skills are just that OP. He's the consummate liar who enjoys talking circles around people but sometimes just desperately wants someone to confide in about what his life is actually like.

I love that Kaito's all of these things and that he can be self-contradictory (as we all are) without feeling unnatural with it. Even though canon usually limits us to seeing one or two of the aspects of his personality at a time, it's clear that they're all still there under the surface, impacting his actions and decisions.

I can't talk about why I love Kaito without also talking about his relationship with Conan/Shinichi. It is fantastic to watch the way he and Conan balance each other: they each recognize their equal in the other, and thoroughly enjoy squaring off against each other as a result. They also make a great team, when they do end up on the same side. Similarly, Kaito's obvious pride in Conan when he figures things out (even Kaito's own tricks) is so adorable.

They both carry so many secrets and I feel like it gives them a sense of kinship to know that, despite everything, there's another person out there who faces similar struggles and who, just maybe, can accept them for who they really are, mysteries and secret identities and intelligence and all. There’s a trust there that I can’t get enough of.

Tying onto that, one thing I particularly love about KID is that he's not actually a villain, even when he's acting in opposition to Conan and the police. He's a challenge and an opponent and a rival, but he's too fundamentally good to ever qualify as a villain imo (custom KID hannin silhouette notwithstanding).

Kaito is the guy who actively puts himself at risk to help others, like 'stealing' the clock tower, or saving Lupin the dog, or protecting Jody Hopper from Snake, or watching out for the shounen tantei in the Kichiemon house. And don't even get me started on the number of times he's saved Conan from certain death by falling off various high things. He is one of the kindest people in this series, imo, but he hides it so well that most people don't notice. Unlooked for kindness makes me soft, especially from a character who is technically filling the role of a criminal.

Another aspect of Kaito's personality that I personally find fascinating is his relationship with gender. He's equally as comfortable and confident in any disguise and, while that could be ascribed to his skills as an actor, I don't know many teenage boys who would be that nonchalant about presenting themselves according to such diverse gender expectations. For example, I love how Conan harasses Kaito about his tendency to wear female disguises in the Iron Tanuki case and it doesn't bother Kaito in the slightest (’it's cuter that way’ is also the most amazing response). I also enjoy watching him use disguise-appropriate flirtation techniques on his targets with no apparent discomfort about switching from one collection of gender norms to another.

Also A Study in Scarlette has firmly convinced me that Kaito wears lacy underthings simply because he likes them, which is a head canon hill I will die on.

And on THAT bombshell, I'm going to stop talking before I actually turn this into an essay. Orz

TL;DR: Kaito is a flashy, kind-hearted chaos gremlin and I adore him.

[morsartis]

That [Redacted]

It was no secret that trolls reacted differently to things concerning romance, as someone who was somewhat well versed in quadrants by now you could say that there really was some method to the madness. Truth be told it was all extremely straightforward- unless you were a clown. Gods above and below did that throw a wrench in things. From symbolism and ritual all the way down to the odd taboo clowns just loved to make things interesting- and often contradictory- despite being in a relationship with Marvus for as long as you had been those damn clowns still confounded you. 

Still, you’d learned to pick up on certain tells. Little mannerisms your matesprite couldn’t help himself from doing each and every time. Sipping at your drink as the troll next to you continued to ramble on- about what you had long lost track of- it was very clear they were getting on Marvus’ nerves. Really, he wasn’t subtle. Not anymore. The twitch of his ears every time your companion laughed at something they’d said, the flex of his hands around his cane when they leaned into your personal space. Honestly it was starting to get a little funny. They weren’t even hitting for your red quadrant- just making over the top and cartoonishly exaggerated small talk- but clearly Marvus had different feelings on the matter. Some time between them plopping down in your booth and throwing an arm around your shoulders Marvus had started inching his way closer and closer. He made a good show of it, of rambling and ‘wandering’ around the club. To the untrained eye he’d only ‘accidentally’ find himself back at your table.  “Ohmygoddd is that Marvvvy Xoloto? I legit can’t! Are you two here together?” The teal was now half sprawled across you to gawk openly like a stereotypical drunk sorority girl. One hand wrapped around a solo cup and the other still clinging to your shoulders. It was clearly getting to Marvus as you saw his brow twitch and his grin become a little more forced. Taking the solo cup from their glitter smeared claws you set it on the table and carefully guided them back into a sitting position. Your newly appointed bestie still refused to remove their arm from around your shoulders and while that didn’t bother you it was clearly bothering your matesprite more and more.  “Like Baaabeee, you should totally ask him to hang out with us!”

You couldn’t even attempt to stop the barking laughter that statement caused. The straw that broke the metaphorical camel’s back as Marvus all but appeared at your side to sneer a wide grin down at your companion- you should really remember their name because they seemed like a blast- and placed a single hand down on the table to lean over the two of you. Abruptly your companion stopped giggling along with you in favor of staring gobsmacked up at him.  “Omg babes did I like black out or did he teleport cause dayum!”  Marvus’ near livid red eyes softened a shade towards orange in confusion.  “Exactly how drunk are you right now?” You asked them in amusement.  “Ooooo what’s that earth show saying thang??? Oh! Oh! Oh! I found a liquor store and I drank it! Yeah! That’s the one.” “Let’s call you a cab then.”

“Awww but I wanna party!” Their arms wrapped around you in a vice as they pouted down at you. The shiny metallic sequins of their crop top were digging into your skin and you had a suspicion that there would be glitter in your hair for days to come. A low growl emanated from above you and to both your horror and amusement the teal blew a raspberry at him. 

“Ay tealz, wat tha fck you think you doin?”

“I am having a great time with my new bestie! Now buzz off grumpy pants!” They pointed a finger right in Marvus’ face causing him to go cross eyed and threw their legs over you to practically sit in your lap. Oh, you needed their name and number because they were now your favorite person. Giggling hysterically you patted their knee. Marvus was starting to look somewhere between murderous and exasperated. 

“That’s my matesprite yo’ dumbass is feelin’ up tealz.”

“Omggg you two are together together?? That’s adorable!” And yet they didn’t budge an inch. 

“Marvus could you help me get them into a cab?” You asked earning another whine from them. 

“But the party isn’t even over yet!” 

“Ye, but it be lookin like you dun had enough.” Marvus ground out. 

It took you wrapping an arm around their waist and half dragging half herding them towards the exit before they stopped whining. Marvus had been more than happy to clear the way and get them a cab which is when the night went from interesting to insane. Marvus had been trying to subtly goad the teal off of you as you waited for a cab but they had simply wrapped themselves more firmly around you. As the time for the cab dragged on Marvus continued to grow more agitated until finally, finally, the cab pulled up. 

“We should go to another party.” Ellari- you’d finally gotten a name- slurs cheerfully attempting to drag you with them to the cab. Marvus takes a step towards the both of you.  “I think it’s closing time for you.” You reply. Ellari pouts exaggeratedly and pulls you into a hug.  “Well you better call meee! I need a party buddy!”  “Of course, of course-,” You yelp suddenly when they pull back and with a wicked grin move faster than any drunk has any right to move.  “See ya next time babe!” They shout diving into the cab as quickly as their stilettoes would allow. 

“You sneaky mother-,” Marvus snarls suddenly lunging for the cab as it speeds off. He spends a moment swearing at the rapidly speeding cab as it escapes and you place a hand on your rear still stinging with the slap. As the situation finally catches up with you a laugh begins to bubble up. Marvus whirls around to look at you completely bewildered as you start to cackle until tears streak down from the corners of your eyes. 

“Wats so damn funny babes?” He asks warily eyes narrowing slightly. You shake your head still laughing too hard to speak as he approaches you. Its not until he bends down to be level with you that the laughter begins to die off. There’s a look in his eyes that’s familiar and sends your stomach in nervous knots. A plotting look of suspicion that turns his eyes dark. 

“Were you tryna make a clown jealous baby?” 

Oh shit. 

A shark like grin spreads across his face and before you can explain he has you up in his arms. 

Officially screwed is putting it lightly. 

[kaizokuou-ni-naru]

The Voyage So Far: Dressrosa (Part Two)

east blue (1 | 2) || alabasta (1 | 2) || skypiea || water 7 || enies lobby || thriller bark || paramount war (1 | 2) || fishman island || punk hazard || dressrosa (1 | 2) || || whole cake island || wano (1 | 2)

wild how this is upwards of 750 chapters in and yet i still get a big dumb smile whenever luffy declares he’s going to be king of the pirates. one piece is a series very much driven by its main characters and their goals and dreams- i don’t think it would be nearly as good if the main character was anyone but monkey d. luffy. 

personally, i always just feel kind of proud whenever he says this, because- yeah!! he is!! that’s luffy, he’s going to be king of the pirates, and we’ve known that since day fucking one. 

i really think there’s something to be said about usopp never taking credit for saving luffy and law from sugar. it’s arguably his greatest feat in the entire series thus far- an impossible, perfect shot across an entire country, with an angry mob inches from his back- and he never even tells anybody he did it. he’s come a long way from someone who tells tall tales about heroic acts he never did to someone who doesn’t even feel the need to take credit for ones he really did, so long as his friends are safe.

i really like how corazon’s introduction and characterization throughout the flashback is handled. at the start of law’s flashback, we know a few things about him already: that he’s someone law loved very much, and that he was killed by doflamingo. we know how this ends. 

but then cora is introduced as a clumsy mute weirdo who nearly kills law as one of the very first things he does, and we as the audience aren’t really sure how to reconcile that- and then the rest of the flashback is us, along with law, slowly discovering what a complicated and contradictory but ultimately good person he is. something very similar happens with the asl flashback- we know the endpoint of luffy and ace’s relationship, but the flashback is all about how they got there, from attempted murder to willing self-sacrifice. 

i think it’s really cool the way law and doflamingo’s backstories are layered together. they’re characters who exist with a lot of parallels and similarities between them already, which is something they’re both clearly aware of- i’ve mentioned before i think the only real difference between them is that law got corazon where doflamingo got the executives- and presenting their backstories simultaneously only makes that more obvious. 

i’ve always found it so interesting that we get what’s pretty much our only substantial exposition about the will of d direct from a former celestial dragon. it makes sense- cora’s basically the only character we’ve met who both has this information and is willing to share it-  but i don’t know, there’s something that feels very poetic to me about him having this information that’s clearly been suppressed and hidden by the dragons and willingly choosing to share it in order to help protect law, a D, who should technically be the very enemy he was once taught to hate and fear. 

i really like corazon. 

it fucks me up that we can tell the exact moment cora dies from the moment law starts making noise again. 

this might be a controversial take? i’m not sure. but i like baby five. i think her and sai’s relationship is really sweet, and people might complain about her getting off easy or whatever but i’m honestly glad she gets a happy ending after being thoroughly emotionally abused and broken her entire life. and on a lighter note, she’s also just a fun character to watch through the whole arc- the running gag with her crying whenever law glares at her is still one of my favorites in the whole series. 

the shot of robin’s bloody back is a favorite of mine, because it’s a reveal that doesn’t get lingered on at all, and yet at once it gives the entire proceeding scene a lot more weight when we understand just how much pain she must’ve been in the entire time. and yet she never even flinched or faltered while protecting rebecca. nico robin is very, very strong. 

there’s something so deliciously fitting about diamante’s final fall ending with him cracking his head on scarlett’s grave, and something so lovely about kyros and rebecca finally getting their proper reunion there, when neither of them ever really got a chance to mourn.

law’s line about the strawhats trailing nothing but miracles in their wake is one of the first ones i always think of when i think about the strawhats in general and luffy in particular, mostly because it’s so true. from the very beginning, the strawhats have been doing the impossible, from sailing to the sky to breaking in and out of the world’s greatest prison, and law saw that and staked all his hopes on it and they did not let him down. 

also i think it’s very cool of law to, when held at gunpoint and down an arm, grin, flip doflamingo off, and tell him to eat shit and that luffy is going to kick his ass. love that for him.

i think dressrosa does a very good job of making the victory against doflamingo equally law’s and luffy’s. they cooperate and trade off fighting him throughout the arc to great effect, and i think it’s pretty clear that neither of them could have tackled the massive challenge of dressrosa alone. 

while the final fight is luffy’s, it’s made clear that that’s only after law’s done absolutely everything he could and spent the majority of the arc distracting doflamingo, keeping him occupied, and even fucking shredding his insides with pure radiation before finally needing to tap out. i think it’s a good balance, given that luffy is the protagonist but law’s grudge against doflamingo is the driving force behind the entire arc. 

conqueror’s haki clashes are always very cool, pretty much regardless of who or where or why, but the one between luffy and doflamingo is a favorite. 

one of the things that’s always impressed me about one piece in comparison to other shounen series is how it handles its powerscaling- in that it does it well with a gradual increase and villains who vary widely in strength instead of every arc necessarily needing to be bigger and better than the last- and i think the way it handles powering up the main characters is a big part of that. 

through the entirety of one piece thus far, i’d say luffy has had three major power-ups- second and third gear in enies lobby, haki at the timeskip, and gear four here in dressrosa (an argument could also be made for ryuuou in wano, but i think that’s less major than these others). this helps prevent runaway powerscaling and also makes new power-ups feel like a genuine event, which i really like. 

i once referred to luffy as ‘hopebringer’ in a conversation with friends, and it’s a descriptor for him i think sums up really well how he manages to save so many people while insistently not being a hero. luffy inspires people, inspires whole countries, starting all the way back with coby in romance dawn. it’s one of the reasons i think it’s fitting how thoroughly he’s associated with the dawn. 

doflamingo is very, very scary. which is interesting, because he’s indisputably less powerful someone like kaidou, but at the same time i find him a much scarier villain, and i think it comes down to doflamingo’s gleeful, wanton cruelty. not that kaidou is in any way shape or form a nice person, but our first introduction to doflamingo is him forcing marines to attack each other just because he’s a little bored. he hurts people just because he can, and finds it funny. 

relating to my earlier comment about hope, i really like how the whole country comes together at the end to cheer luffy on and count down to his return. it makes it feel all the more triumphant when it does, especially for the citizens of dressrosa who’ve been suffocating under doflamingo’s rule for years and can finally, finally see freedom.

other people have put a lot more thought of the symbolism of doflamingo’s eyes and glasses than i intend to, but i’ll settle for saying that it’s the breaking of the glasses, before anything else, before the birdcage even vanishes from the sky and everyone is safe, that shows us that, at long last, doflamingo is well and truly defeated. his glasses break, and so does his power. 

i’ve written a longer post about it before (here) but it’s a recurring motif that one piece’s worst villains are those that steal people’s freedom, including, in the cruelest cases, the freedom to express their emotions openly. we see it with koala and the celestial dragons, with the failed smile fruits in wano, and here, too, with kyros. and, much like koala, triumph for him means finally being able to cry. 

i mentioned it back in the first post, but i’m so, so happy rebecca and kyros get the happy ending they deserve. they’ve both been fighting a war that they never should have had to for years and years, and they both deserve to get to just live, now, peaceful and quiet and together and surrounded by flowers. 

i really dig the note dressrosa ends on. it’s happy, of course, obviously, with the liberation of the country, kyros and rebecca’s happy ending, the creation of the grand fleet, even law getting some degree of closure through his talk with sengoku, but it also leaves this massive, gaping question- what now? 

in a way, doflamingo’s speech here follows up on law’s new era speech from punk hazard. luffy and law have just thrown a major wrench into the delicate power equilibrium of the entire new world, and we have all these characters out there who might be affected, who might want to take advantage, who might try to seize the throne. 

[artreider]

Let's try to get this final live blog on my station 19 rewatch done. I'm currently laid up on my couch in mild pain but unable to do anything else.

I don't really like flashback episodes but i want one for the premiere since we are jumping so far ahead. I hate that this episode starts with a fight. But damn knowing what the fight is over, i love how loyal andy is to maya in this episode. Something ive wanted for her and the team. Qnd also jaina looks gorgeous.

The fire scene yay another fire on the fire show lmao. Feel like we missed some last year which im sure was covid related.

The marina scene ugh chefs kiss. I love how happy and giddy they are. I do wish we couldve gotten to see some of their month apart communication and their quarantining apart those two weeks when carina got back. I wrote a little something related to that and i may share before the premiere of season 5.

The quiet moment between carina saying her morning was better than those 6 weeks and then asking about mayas folks was a beautiful and real moment and i love it. So brief it could be overlooked but great choice for team.

The little bit of danielle and stefania that was them and adlibbed in this episode was so great also.

I love that rhey addressed how everyone was able to attend maskless and how safe the wedding was keeping the real world element in. Also vic love you and your chicken dance comment makes me sad that we didnt get it.

Vics parents trying to talk to her about theo is so cute.

Poor lawyer she'd be good for dean.

I understand some people dont come out until late in life but that is hard to hear that you havent loved the person youve been with for decades like you do this new person. That would hurt me so much to hear, like i couldve been with someone who is my great love if youd told me sooner. I love/hate this storyline for travis family.

Ugh if this fire had gone on any longer those poor kids and elderly couple.

Haha andy you should wait until someone answers the door for you when visiting almost newlyweds or people who've been seperated for 6 weeks lmao.

Also maya's excuse and none wet (shower) sex hair i love it.

Ugh sullivan trying to defend himself makes me so upset.

Bailey giving ben hell about second and third opinions is funny, like i figure shed be all for it.

Inara and marcus leaving jack is sad. I hope we still get to see marsha in season 5. Also if they do pair jack and jo itd be a bit ironic. I mean jo too had an abusive ex like inara.

Also jack and his marsha have similar eyes, itd be something if it came out she really was his mom.

I dont understand how maya hadnt settled on what to wear she's queen of the clipboard lmao. Just goes to show how some things throw us off course. Also i totally get her saying her outfit choice will define her forever. I judge my look in my wedding photos all the time and feel like other people do as well.

Why do i feel like this exchange between maya and carina was mostly adlibbed? It just feels so fun.

This poor family and ugh i couldnt imagine having to make the tough calls of firefighters/fire captains.

Love that all the fire crew helped put the wedding on.

I understand travis emotion here.

How'd this conversation about maya's folks get started with andy???

I love that maya and andy's friendship is restored. Also famous last words maya, dont speak the bad juju into existence.

Dean you shouldve spoken up there.

Why the chief there? I live in a city and the chief aint showing up for a house call that needs a few units. At least not until fire is out of they for some reason cant get it out.

Lmao maya freaking out about wearing the same thing as carina. Andy therapizing maya is funny.

That poor boy.

The dad comments to ben are beautiful. Also love that so many of the team know how dean feels about vic.

So why is travis getting dressed separately than the rest of his team. I mean i know its because he doesnt know about Dean's feelings and pushes vic to give theo a chance as well as allow theo and travis to talk but come on. He wouldnt get ready separately.

Also what was the point of theo going to that room if not to get ready. Sorry just annoying.

I wish carina had had someone mention andrew to her. Whether ben, bailey, maya or even any of the fire team who worked on the call with him during the crossover awhile back. Her grief during this day of happiness should've been acknowledged, even with just a remembrance table for him amd other family she lost to covid.

I do love this beautiful moment with vic though saying this isnt all just for maya.

Oh my how i love the maya confronting her father. She is the brave i want to be. Also what she says to her mom, yes chefs kiss. However when her mom shows up at the wedding, really the woman couldnt grab a nice shirt or dress to wear on her way out or on her way to the wedding.

I also love the look of pride on maya's moms face both at the house and the wedding.

Im sad we probably wont get any moments of her living with marina due to the time jump.

Ugh the choice that cost maya her promotion but ahouldnt have.

Also with all maya's options for clothes, couldnt they had dressed her mama in something borrowed from maya. Lol im sorry it bothers me so.

Vic's song for the intro is beautiful. Barrett has a beautiful voice.

Maya is so happy her mom is there and i love it. Also in my head at least one person videoing is doing it for the greys family who couldnt make it to the wedding for carina.

I also love maya singing along with vic to carina.

Queen of the clipboard forgetting to write her vows is special and funny. I love carina talking her down from a panic attack. Also her simple vow is beautiful and how carina who probably did write her vows saying we're good instead of reading them after seeing maya's mom in attendance and the look shared is everything.

I truly believe that was the moment she 100% knew maya had changed from end of season 3, was definitely all the way in. She knew what it meant for maya's mom to be there.

Love the dance montage and improved marina kiss.

Another healing theo and travis talk.

Sullivan just cant let it go and ugh trying to justify it. I just cant, still not over it. Even if he isnt captain in season 5 it still isnt right.

Sullivan you cant say you have the teams back then saying you can control them and throwing maya under the bus. Those are contradictory.

This jack and andy conversation is interesting.

This marina conversation is funny but sad when you know the end of the episode.

Its so funny that so few people know about Miller's feelings at this point.

It'll be interesting to see the travis, vic and theo in season 5.

Ben and bailey are so cute.

Wish we couldve had conversations at the wedding with maya and her mom or carina and maya's mom or the 3 of them.

Inara is so wise. I hate this for all 4 of them.

Gotta love the ole grab em and pull em back to kiss them and let them know how you really feel tremmett moment.

Too late dean, they tried to tell you.

I love marina dancing in the background ugh sullivan and the surrera rehashing.

Time for the horrible news ugh.

Everyone just looking at marina and knowing is horrible.

Great season, great episode and im looking forward to whats next.

Thank you to everyone thats been following my rewatch blogging, and for all the kind comments. I appreciate it so much, made the summer so fun.

[levihantrash]

new chapter update!

Summary:

Levi’s pragmatism pulled the brakes. “I’m not about to dedicate my life to become a broke comic artist.”

Levi Ackerman, a gruff cleaner with an appetite for toilet humour meets the unabashedly friendly creative writing professor, Hange Zoë, who somehow ropes Levi into working on a comic with them. While the comic’s title remains undecided, Hange knows that it’s going to be set in a world where giant, human-like creatures devour other humans. Erwin Smith, the comic’s self-appointed editor, unironically thinks it’s going to be a hit. All Levi knows is that he wants to indulge in drawing this comic while hanging out with a certain writer who just won’t stop talking to him.

Where Hange, Levi, and Erwin are the creators of Attack on Titan.

Chapter 1: Free Bread

Chapter 2: New Friends

Like routine, Levi found himself waiting for a certain professor to show up. When Erwin called out to him, he couldn’t help but search behind the tall, imposing figure.

“I haven’t seen Hange this morning either,” Erwin said. Levi found himself irritated by Erwin’s discernment and by his own discrete uneasiness.

“Good morning, Erwin,” Levi greeted, nonetheless.

Hange was late, which Levi figured wouldn’t be out of the ordinary.

The morning passed without a single sign of Hange.

“Sorry, are you Mr. Levi?” A nervous-looking person approached him, holding on to a well-wrapped steamed bun. A twinge of hope stirred in Levi.

“Levi will do,” he said.

“Dr. Hange said I should pass you this,” the bread-holder blurted out.

Levi’s gaze softened. “Where’s Hange?”

“Oh! She’s rushing a deadline and insisted that I pass you this bread.”

The inexplicable rush of relief made Levi dizzy as he grasped the bread limply. “Huh. Sorry that you have to be an errand boy today.”

“It’s no trouble!”

“Who are you?”

“Sorry! I didn’t introduce myself! I’m Moblit, their teaching assistant! Dr. Hange helps me out with my master’s thesis because they’re my advisor. This is just my way of saying thanks. Dr. Hange also treats me to meals, gives me detailed comments for my work… though they might go overboard when it comes to giving speeches about the importance of world-building and honing your craft, it’s inspiring how dedicated they are in what they do.”

Moblit took a deep breath, making up for lost air in between the lengthy, whole-hearted sentences.

“Is that so…” Levi said, suddenly contemplative. “Do you want some tea?”

“Are you getting it from the staff pantry?”

“No, that stuff’s stale as shit. I have better tea, wait here.”

Levi recalled Erwin asking him in front of everyone in the staffroom if he wanted the staffroom snacks. Hange followed up, speaking at a volume that was clear enough for most of the staff to overhear, orchestrating a deliberate conversation with Erwin.

“Since there are no hard rules as to who the snacks and drinks are catered for, and technically, Levi is a staff member, he should have access to the snacks!”

None of the professors objected. It was probably because open prejudice would be socially unacceptable, Levi thought.

Begrudgingly, he accepted Erwin’s offer, and in full view of everyone, took a candy bar.

Hange gasped. “Just one?” Levi glared at them.

“Aren’t the snacks for your little sister?” Hange asked. He nodded, sensing the collective spike in sympathy for him in the staffroom.

After the whole stage, the trio huddled conspicuously in a corner outside the staffroom.

Hange whispered to Levi, “You could have played along better!”

“Erwin’s tired of your skit,” Levi said, overwhelmed and annoyed at the turn of events.

“No he’s not!” Hange said sternly, before gulping down half a bottle of water.

Erwin, standing in between them, told Hange to keep it down.

“Thanks, you two.” Levi found himself staring at the floor, embarrassed that his two friends had to construe him as a pitiful character for him to get a few snacks, even though he had been informed of the plan prior.

“I’m sorry, Levi,” Hange said, their lips compressed into a hard, grim line. “It’s ridiculous that you can’t even get snacks and refreshments as part of the staff.”

“I’m used to it.”

“If anyone’s giving you a hard time, you have us,” Hange said, still put off.

They squared their shoulders impressively. “Right Erwin?”

“You can rely on us, Levi,” Erwin surmised, equally sombre.

Growing more ruffled by their declarations, Levi hissed, “I don’t need two bodyguards.”

“No, you definitely don’t,” Hange joked. “Some people have told me about the deathly aura you emit that I must have missed…”

Fixing their attention at a vague distance, Hange’s playful jibes dwindled into an idle pondering, “I wonder if you found some joy in our companionship at least.”

They’re talking about joy and friendship again… Levi thought.

He found himself back in the present, handing a cup of black tea to Moblit, guiding him towards a bench.

Moblit squeaked out, “Thank you!”

“How did you find me?” Levi asked, betraying none of his real curiosity.

“Hange gave me a description…” Moblit began, not making eye contact with Levi.

“Did they? What’s the description?” Knowing Hange’s brand of humour, Levi braced himself.

Moblit shuffled in his seat, terribly reluctant. “They said to look out for a cold, black-haired man with an undercut, wearing an apron, gloves and brandishing a mop while scolding people to not step on wet floors.” Levi made a mental note to strangle Hange.

Moblit quickly supplemented, “You’re not actually cold though!”

“How would you know that?”

“Um… you’re offering me tea?”

Levi clicked his tongue. “That’s a low bar for human decency. You should have higher standards.”

“You’re right, Mr. Levi… I mean Levi.”

Levi noted Moblit’s jittery manner when he briefly checked his phone for a message and let out a small groan.

“Hey, you look worried sick. You didn’t receive a death threat, did you?”

Moblit laughed weakly, running his hand through his hair. “Uh, you see, I’m one of the editors for the bi-annual literary magazine and we’ve been looking for illustrators…”

“I take it that you haven’t been successful?”

“Yes… I just received someone’s rejection. It’s okay, we’ll find one,” Moblit said, although his panicked lip-biting ran contradictory to his optimistic statement. Levi’s hands twitched again. He folded them promptly into his apron pockets.

Upon finishing the tea, Moblit stood up and gave a tiny, polite bow. “It was nice meeting you Levi. Thanks for listening and for the tea!”

“Good luck,” Levi said, in time before Moblit rushed off.

Bagging up the rubbish, Levi heaved the load on his shoulder easily, only to be startled by the appearance of Hange.

“Fuck! Can you stop jumping out of nowhere?” Though momentarily disconcerted, the tension built up from the day unwound instantaneously, leaving his body loose and feeble.

“Levi! Did you shit yourself?” Hange sang. They accidentally bumped into the gigantic rubbish bag, falling butt-first onto the ground, phone in hand.

“Be careful,” Levi said, in the same monotonous voice he used regardless of the situation. Unless the situation involved Hange leaping out of nowhere. He looped his free arm under their armpit to pull them back up. Hange, flushed from running, placed their phone in his hands with ill-contained excitement.

“Look at what I found!”

“Oi, what’s this—” Levi scanned the phone, his mouth running dry.

“I’m going to recruit this artist. For my comic.”

It was a sketch of a cat being patted by a person with messy, tied-up hair, their hands stroking its head.

“Don’t you think the person looks familiar? Isn’t the cat cute… remember how I told you I have one at home?” Hange released their brown hair from a voluminous ponytail, biting the rubber band in their mouth.

He swallowed. “I drew that.”

Hange’s mouth hung open. “You’re kidding!”

“Do I look like I make such shit jokes?”

“Personally, I find your shitty jokes very funny. This is exciting news! Why didn’t you tell me you’re an artist when I was trying to find one for my comic?”

Levi found her question preposterous. “You could easily find a better one. I’m inexperienced.”

“I’m also an inexperienced writer. I barely wrote one book and a few articles!”

“You’re a professor. You have the title for a reason. I just draw for fun.”

Hange spared him a baffled look. “Please. You have no idea how many great writers never become professors. And how some professors never write great books. I thought you of all people would know that a title doesn’t mean anything.”

“I thought you of all people would know that titles hold their value here, even if we think they’re stupid and don’t mean shit.”

“I know that, Levi. I’m saying, drawing for fun doesn’t make you inexperienced or unworthy of being the artist for my comic. Besides, I chose you before I even knew it was you!” Hange said triumphantly.

Locking the phone screen, Levi reiterated, “I draw for fun.”

“Then this will be our fun project!”

Levi’s pragmatism pulled the brakes. “I’m not about to dedicate my life to become a broke comic artist.”

“You won’t be broke.” Erwin slipped into their conversation as though he had always been there. It was uncanny.

“What do you mean?” Levi stared questioningly at Erwin.

“You’ll be paid for your work, Levi. Hange as well,” Erwin said simply.

“You’re paying us?” Hange and Levi asked, in unison. One, in disbelief, and the other, in delight.

“A publisher will be paying you. I’ve secured funding.”

Levi gritted his teeth. “A publisher wants to sponsor a comic that hasn’t even been written?”

“I told you, Levi,” Hange interrupted. “I’ve already submitted a draft!”

“Yes,” Erwin said.

Levi had so many questions. “How?”

“Because it’s a good story.”

“Did you bribe them? Threaten them?”

“It is a risk,” Erwin admitted.

“It’s a fucking gamble,” Levi emphasised. “Don’t know why you’re so invested in this comic.”

Hange had other worries. “Levi, did you think I wasn’t going to pay you?”

Levi hesitated. “I don’t know. Isn’t this just a fun side-project?”

Hange’s face came closer to his. With the enhanced proximity, Levi stopped breathing altogether. Their face was deadly solemn.

“Listen, Levi, creating art is hard work. Your hard work. Any artist deserves to be paid. It’s not because our relationship is transactional. It’s because it’s only right.”

Erwin added, “We’re not going to accept your art for free.”

Pushing Hange back firmly with his hands on their shoulders, Levi argued, “Plenty of people have access to my art online for free.”

“That’s your choice. We insist.” Hange grinned. “And we think we deserve to be paid too. Even I’m surprised that my project has early compensation.”

Part of Levi’s resolve ebbed away. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good enough for me!”

“First, you have to tell me what your story is.” Levi gathered up the last of his self-respect. “And if we’re going to be working together, I’ll need your number.”

Erwin raised an innocent eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you need mine too?”

“Stop teasing him, Erwin,” Hange said, grabbing the rubbish bag from Levi, struggling to balance its weight over their shoulders.

Just as Levi felt a shred of gratitude, Hange remarked, “What if he doesn’t agree to do the comic together?”

Patience running thin, Levi stomped on both their feet in a fit of unrestraint that diverged from his unaffected demeanour.

Eyes twinkling, Hange couldn’t help but feel immense glee at the prospect of working with Levi. What was probably Levi’s withheld strength made them certain that he only wanted to dirty their shoes, not bruise their toes. Like Hange would care about the cleanliness of their battered sneakers.

In front of an ordinary apartment door, Hange dug into the depths of their bag to fish out a ring of keys. The size of the ring was unprecedentedly big; the choice of keychain most definitely random, a freebie handed out to new staff that blatantly displayed the university’s name.

Without that much bribery of tea, bread, and friendship, Levi found himself standing beside Hange as they busied themselves in finding the key to their apartment. Erwin had bailed due to having another Important Meeting with Important People, even during a weekend, but encouraged Hange and Levi to take time to discuss the comic.

Hange hadn’t expected Levi to agree so readily to kickstarting the project, and with the generous reception Levi gave (a curt nod and a follow-up question), they thought it’d be best if they invited him over to their apartment. Just so he wouldn’t mistake Hange as a mere business partner. Now that would be upsetting.

Hange pushed the ludicrous speculation out of their head. Levi was first and foremost, a good friend. His bored appearance revealed glimpses of surprise, satisfaction, moodiness, and suspicion. Hange held on to these pieces with the determination to collect them all. Surely, Levi must have figured them out by now. This endless, unabashed interest Hange had taken in him.

“Why are we meeting at your place? Do you need to take a huge shit? Does the toilet at home have a better flush?”

Although Levi had no qualms about visiting Hange’s apartment, he found it unnerving to have a work discussion in someone’s living quarters. It felt too intimate, too casual. He wasn’t sure if he could handle being sucked in further into Hange’s life. They asked so many questions, yet barely answered any about themselves.

Whether intentionally or not, Hange was someone shrouded in mystery to Levi. He couldn’t ask questions either—he wouldn’t—because he was unaccustomed to expressing himself in front of people. More than that, he could envision Hange’s sharp wit poking a clean hole through his muted facade. “You’re interested in my life, Levi?” Damn that four-eyes for being so perceptive. Or was he so easy to read?

“It’s more fun,” Hange said, eventually stuffing the correct key into the keyhole, a smooth click welcoming them. “Plus, I want to introduce you to my friends! Part of the reason why I took up the position at this university.”

“Friends?” Levi asked, slipping out of his shoes to step into the apartment.

“Hange!” A voice rang, and Hange was wrapped in a hug.

“Onyankopon! I saw you yesterday—”

“Three days ago, to be exact, since you always sleep over on the lovely desk at the university.” A smooth voice entered, coming from a woman standing comfortably against the wall.

As the tallest body let go of Hange, it allowed Levi to take in the congenial features of a man whose shoulders rivalled Erwin’s towering, well-built stature. While Erwin’s smile was measuredly cordial, Onyankopon’s was candidly sincere. Watching Hange and Onyankopon, Levi felt as though he were intruding into a family reunion that had invited the entire neighbourhood. Here, he was the guest who came for the free flow of food and drinks.

“I’ve missed you too Pieck!” The woman named Pieck ruffled Hange’s hair, offering them an embrace.

Hange pulled Levi by the elbow, pointing to the new people. “Meet my roommates and college friends, Onyankopon and Pieck!”

“Hi,” Levi said, uncertain as to what else he could affix his terse greeting with. Hange resolved that predicament for him, going into further details about their friends.

“Onyankopon is a researcher and engineer! I can’t tell you the technical specifics of what he does, though, I always get them wrong. Oh, and he’s religious, but he won’t try to convert you.” Onyankopon nodded, affirming Hange’s unflattering introduction.

“Pieck… Pieck is a gardener, florist, and avid gamer! That’s why she’s always bent over, whether it’s tending to her plants or her high score in front of the monitor.”

“It’s not why I need the crutches though,” Pieck said. Hange squeezed her shoulders in response.

“Seems like my friends are all nerdy. Maybe that’s why I like them?” A sheepish smile graced Hange’s lips.

Onyankopon gestured towards Hange, imitating their dramatic flourish. “And this is Hange Zoe, the nerdiest of them all. Obsessed with words. Recently obsessed with science fiction. They’re always reading or writing, and once they start on something, their butt doesn’t leave the chair.”

Levi’s eyes flitted around the apartment—it was relatively tidy, with a couple of framed photos and artworks. A blanket on the couch made it homely enough. His inspection didn’t miss Hange’s notice.

“Like what you see?”

“It’s neat,” he replied.

“That’s a compliment!” Hange took care to disclose this to their two friends.

“All your previous partners don’t take off their shoes, Hange. I hope he isn’t one of those.” Pieck said, using their crutch to relocate Hange’s haphazard shoes to a corner, flipping them the right side up. Levi liked her already.

“That’s gross,” Levi said apathetically, wiping away the horrifying image of dirt-smeared carpets and tiles creeping into his consciousness.

“He’s very clean, don’t worry,” Hange said easily. “Some might even say it’s his obsession.”

“I’m the cleaner at the university.” Onyankopon and Pieck turned towards Hange with patented disapproval.

“Levi, you know that’s not what I meant.”

“I think we’ll make good friends,” Pieck said, bemused.

Hange beamed at Levi. “You’ll love Pieck! She’s really quiet most of the time, just like you. Not to mention she pretends that she hates me. Just like you.”

“Good to know,” Levi said, enjoying the banter a bit too much.

“Hange says she’s going to get you to draw me, as a titan,” Pieck said, evidently sceptical.

“What’s a titan?”

“The giant, naked people I told you about, Levi! They’re called titans!”

“Why are they called titans?”

Hange landed on the sofa with a plop, patting the seat beside them for Levi to sit. “In Greek mythology, titans are immortal giant gods who were banished to the underground.”

Levi, who had little knowledge of Greek mythology, made a mental note to search for references online.

“Therefore, the titans are kind of like vengeful giant gods from the underground who have come to earth to wreak havoc on what the gods have built, which is human civilisation, basically.”

“Basically, I am wonderful enough to be titan-material,” Pieck drawled, propping their crutch at the side of the couch, sliding onto the cushions.

“A special titan that walks on all fours! Um, that’s the plan for now,” Hange said brightly.

Onyankopon, who had been content with listening, clapped his hands together in sudden realisation. “Hange, now that you’re finally home, you can take a shower.”

“I should, right?” Hange scratched their head, feeling the slickness of unwashed neglect.

Levi crinkled his nose as Hange reluctantly made their way to the bathroom. “That’s disgusting.”

“And here you are, still.” Pieck’s amiable statement prickled at his skin like a light warning before impending exposure.

“Hange must really want to make a good impression if they’re showering now,” Onyankopon said, chuckling to himself.

“It’s good to finally meet you.” Onyankopon pushed a newly made cup of tea towards Levi, with the steady confidence that could only come from having known prior that it was the beverage that Levi would desire. “Make yourself at home.”

Levi said his thanks, to the hospitality of two people he scarcely knew, and to Hange, who likely told them about the tea.

Cold water blasted them in the face, as Hange became cognizant of the necessity of showering more regularly. It wasn’t like they thrived in the dirt. Hypothetically, showering wasn’t that troublesome. The shower kept forgetting itself until it was three days later and Hange stank with regret and mild self-loathing. Still, the shower felt good, giving them new clarity about the fact that they had invited Levi into their inner social circle. How would he fare? Would he be uncomfortable? Hange massaged shampoo into their hair, recalling their conversation with Pieck and Onyankopon.

After much elaboration on adapting to a new university, their visits to an amazing bakery, and the fostering of daily encounters with new friends, Pieck had caught on that every other sentence from Hange contained a sliver of Levi-sized anecdotes. The new university was so much bigger than the one Pieck, Onyankopon, and Hange had attended together; it stretched endlessly, and Hange estimated that Levi would have walked 393700.7874 steps to clean just the faculty building. The bakery near the university was fragrant, its selection marvellous, and choosing a new bread for Levi every day was a tremendously delightful task. Moreover, Hange had met so many unique characters since getting to know the people in their faculty, people like Levi whose abhorrence for social etiquette was admirable, and with whom she was eager to share their mornings and lunches. Together with Erwin, of course.

Pieck let out a tinkle of a laugh at Hange’s obliviousness. “Why are you friends with Levi?”

Thinking hard, Hange answered, “I don’t know if he thinks of us as friends.”

“Well, friendship status aside, how’s he like?”

“He’s kind. He doesn’t sound like it, but he’s kind.”

“That’s nice. How’s he kind?”

Confusion coloured Hange’s usual confidence. “Hmm. It’s gut-feeling, I guess.”

“That’s unlike you, to rely solely on instincts,” Onyankopon said, stroking his chin. Hange was a person with an abundance of rationale, a reason for everything, with justification for any ideas. Their reasoning this time fell flat.

Pieck prodded on. “You said that he doesn’t sound kind. Then what does he sound like?”

“Grumpy, sarcastic, serious. He looks like he’s annoyed with everyone. Most people find him scary, I suppose? It’s like he wants people to think he’s an asshole.”

Pieck perked up. “Oh, so you’ve become enamoured with broody, misunderstood people who’re rough around the edges?”

“Pieck, come on, I’m not writing my own romantic trope! I don’t know… he’s a good person. I can tell. He doesn’t say much though.”

“You’re a mind-reader now?”

Hange ignored her. “His art… it’s so evocative. Melancholic. Hopeful. Angry.”

“What was the artwork you last saw of his?”

“A cat,” Hange said immediately.

Onyankopon brought Hange back to reality. “What about him? What do you like about him? Not his art.”

Hange pursed their lips. “Do good people need to prove themselves to show that they’re good?”

“There could be reasons as to why you’re so adamant about his golden character,” Onyankopon said.

“He’s reliable. And his shit jokes aren’t so bad once you get used to it.” Hange surprised themselves with that comment—Levi’s relentless toilet humour was infecting their brain. The corrosive force of the word “shitty” had already moulded itself permanently into their vocabulary.

Gazing up at the ceiling, Hange bent their arms behind their head. “It’s hard to find people to truly get along with.”

Onyankopon and Pieck shared a knowing look.

With their eyes trained to the white ceiling plaster, Hange mumbled on, “it would be nice if he’d talk more openly about what he’s feeling. It’s all guesswork and I’m afraid I’m constantly reading him wrong.”

“Maybe you should take your own advice…” Onyankopon said gently.

“But I do talk about my feelings!”

“Monologuing in your room and reposting vague lines of poetry and sending us memes to cope with your avoidance is not the same as talking about your feelings,” Pieck said, spending the subsequently long moment of silence to snip off a yellowed leaf from the potted Monstera deliciosa next to the kitchen counter.

“Wow.” Hange, for once, had nothing to muster.

Onyankopon’s approach was less incisive than Pieck’s. “You know, I don’t think you need a reason to be friends with someone. If he’s making you happy, I think it’s a good sign.”

“Thanks, Onyankopon,” Hange said gratefully.

“But Pieck’s right about you being deliberately evasive with your own emotions. Introspection shouldn’t be so strenuous, right? Don’t you write about your characters’ internal turmoil often?”

“It’s different when you’re reflecting for yourself,” Hange contended.

“We’ll see how Levi’s like anyway, when we meet him,” Pieck said, grabbing the scissors, going towards another deadened leaf.

“Don’t bully him!”

Another snip. Another leaf fell. “Isn’t he supposed to be scary?”

Hange smiled wryly. “But you two are scarier.”

[im-like-if-a-girl]

*THE* mean-girl-dean-girl's Supernatural reboot MEGAPOST!

I'm gonna stick a little "keeping reading" here because hoooooo boy, this is a very long post.

Let's start with

Plot

Season 1

Dean kills John while they are out on a hunt in a crime of passion, but Dean doesn't remember because he blacked out. Cue Dean going to Stanford to get Sam and tell him "Dad's on a hunting trip... and he hasn't been home in a couple days."

The audience doesn't know what happened to John, but slowly figures it out with Dean and Sam as Dean slowly remembers what happened that night.

The entire first season, the boys are following the trail John left and fighting monsters as well. They find out Dean was with John, Sam realizes Dean has an unreliable memory, they have heart to hearts about their childhood and the fire, they find John's body, "how could you kill Dad?" but maybe Dean didn't kill dad, whooaaaaaa, misdirection.

It was actually good ole yeller eyes (Azazel) and he made it look like Dean killed John.

Okay, now let's move on to the first episode

Not sure how the opening would work, I would like the story of the fire to be revealed over the course of the first season, but maybe the opening scene could be a little bit of an establishing character relationships and backstory, idk, I haven't thought that far yet.

I'm thinking maybe it's like, Dean gets back to a motel room covered in blood and he listens to a voicemail on his phone from John saying he was on a hunt or something, I don't really know lol.

HOWEVER

I do know that after the intro rolls, we get a scene of Sam waking up to his alarm and "Nine to Five" by Dolly Parton starts playing.

Y'all know where this is going.

Cue a montage of Sam's normal Stanford college life (him sitting through lectures, walking through the campus with friends) spliced with scenes of Dean absolutely slaughtering a nest of vampires (or some other monsters, whatever works best.)

But

Now onto

Characters!!! (And descriptions)

Dean Winchester

Some lovely person on this site made edits of Dean with platinum blond hair and it made me feel some kind of way so we're doing that, homie's gonna have platinum blond hair

Side note about the hair, later when the brothers are running from the FBI he dyes it a dirty blond/light brown (insert jackles hair color controversy here) as a disguise.

He also gets tattoos because we were robbed.

Speaking of tattoos, concept: when Dean comes back from Hell, all of his tattoos are gone. His body is a clean slate, devoid of tattoos, scars, etc. So he gets his tattoos done all over again, which he doesn't mind because he made some bad, drunk tattoo decisions in his youth.

(And before you ask, yes, he does get one for Cas, either a bee or Cas's name in enochian, something cute.)

Dean goes to therapy after Sam gets sent to the Cage.

It's actually court mandated because he got in trouble, lol, he would never go to therapy on his own.

Along with the hair, Dean gets to be the grade A twunk we all know he is.

Sam Winchester

His hair gets longer in every scene he's in

No jk, but imagine

King of Microaggressions

Sam starts off like the sweetheart he is in season 1 but in later seasons he starts enjoying killing a little too much...

It's that demon blood, ba-by!!!

He brings up issues of morality to Dean, i.e. killing monsters who aren't hurting anyone. (Yes I know this is contradictory to my previous statement, but these two facets of Sam can and will coexist.)

Sam and Jess's relationship is explored further, meaning we'll need to start with a different inciting incident, but that's fine, I think everyone can agree fridgings are *(thumbs down)*

Sam doesn't truly know what happened the night of the fire until later, and then he understands why Dean is so protective of him.

Jess

She gets to live beyond the first episode

She is also trans

No, I don't feel like I have to explain myself and I won't 💜

She urges Sam to join Dean in a search for their brother, kind of gets pulled into the hunter lifestyle by association lol.

She dies on a rusty nail after fighting vampires on a routine hunt with Sam

No jk!!!

But imagine....

She's amazing and I love her and Lucifer also uses her as leverage against Sam and possesses her because I think that'd be cool.

She supports Sam 100% and also she and Dean are buddies, pals if you will.

She meets Cas Thee El and immediately she Knows, that is a homosexual.

She dies still so that we can have a Saileen Endgame but she's not dying the first episode or in a fridging. Not on my watch.

Castiel

He gets to keep his raw, light-fixture-exploding power.

I want more of that "I pulled you out of hell, I can throw you back in" energy except over dumb shit like Dean not cleaning up after himself.

He looks like a Dilf in every scene he's in, yeah, that's right, dilf with a capital D for *(GUNSHOTS)* *(gets sent to horny jail)*

Claire

She gets pink hair

And more time with Cas

And maybe a nose piercing

Feel like she should be able to kill a couple angels onscreen, punch a couple homophobes

She gets to meet Jack and teaches him swears and fun slang words.

She deserves it.

Jack

I says "that's my baby and I'm proud."

Jack starts off as a baby, but like Amara he grows up super quickly.

Like, baby to 11 year old in a couple days or less.

This is because Jack's emotional age on the show is on par with that of a 5th grader.

It's at this point when he's a young kid that he runs away from the Bunker and shenanigans ensue.

It's also at this point that Dean threatens to k*ll him.

(Still not sure if I want that in my Supernatural (threatened infanticide? In my Supernatural? It's more likely than you think) but we'll see. We'll see.)

Throughout a majority of season 13, Jack is like an 11 y.o. kid

Season 14 he's like a 16 y.o. teenager

Season 15 he's 21, you get the picture.

Listen, I love Alex Calvert a lot. He's great.

But Jack is a child and should be a child.

Kelly Kline

Kelly, baby, stay right where you are, you're perfect.

Eileen

SHE DOESN'T DIE

SHE GETS TO BE IN THE FINALE BECAUSE SHE'S AMAZING AND I LOVE HER.

BLURRY WIFE WHO? I ONLY KNOW SAILEEN ENDGAME!

She teaches Claire and Jack swears in sign-language. Castiel is not impressed.

John

J*hn W*nchester stans, DNI.

He's dead.

We only see him in flashbacks and only sometimes hear his voice in voice overs.

He's not "down the road" from Dean in Heaven, in fact he instead gets to wander around in some Purgatory like Hell for the rest of his time :)

People who get to say "fuck" on the show:

Cas (but only Once)

Jody

Bobby

Now onto other things

I want more of

Ghostfacers

(they need more screentime because I love them)

Dean/Benny

We know they had a thing.

They definitely had a thing.

Demon Dean

Again, I feel like more should've been done with this. All that build up for what, 2 episodes? was not utilized well at all.

Dean's Bisexuality

Straight Dean truthers DNI, my Supernatural is a show about love and being true to yourself

You think Supernatural is a show about 2 straight brothers fighting monsters?

Naw bitch, this is a show about the Gay Experience

He will get to have relations with men on this show.

Of course, only after John dies does he, y'know, display it. Maybe he kisses Cas on his dad's grave just to fuck John over, make him roll in grave.

We all agree John would be/is a homophobe piece of shit, right?

Okay, glad we're on the same page.

Dads

3 men and a baby with Jack is what I'm saying.

I love it when the Trio are father-figures to younger troubled characters they see themselves in, even better if it's like reluctant-but-loving father figure, oh, that trope gets me every time :'^)

Dadstiel and DadDean are my favorites, but I like it when Sam plays "Uncle Sam" to kids too lol.

"Fellas, is it gay to want a tight knit family with your husband, his son, his vessel's daughter, your brother, his wife, your cop mother figure and her wife and their adopted daughters? Asking for a friend."

Garth

Biggest flaw of Supernatural was underutilizing Garth.

I will never not be bitter that Garth was only in like, 7 episodes out of the whole 15 season series.

Every episode with Garth gets immediately 5 times better.

I love Garth.

Follow ups on characters who had entire episodes featured around them and then just... vanished???

This is mostly about Jesse, the magic kid whose imagination ruled an entire town like, his daddy was a demon and nothing came of that kid??? Only one episode about him?? No follow up???

KID CAN MANIPULATE REALITY AND WE'RE NOT GONNA GET A FOLLOW UP ON THAT?????

Uh, there was that one episode with Ennis the guy whose girlfriend was killed by a monster? I think?? Who we never see again, that was weird.

Tamara from season 3, episode 1.

And of course-

Cassie

She was so cool, and then we never saw her again :////

She gets to be a badass.

Religious imagery

As a former Catholic school student who has become for the most part, disillusioned with religion, religious imagery in TV shows like Supernatural make my brain go "brrrrrr."

Fun episodes!!!

Like, after season 6 or so, there's a drop in funny episodes

I'm talking Changing Channels, The French Mistake type stuff. (Scoobynatural is an outlier and should not be counted.)

So anyway

In my version we would have more fun episodes

I'm thinking

GENDER-SWAP EPISODE, BABY!!

(why they didn't do that in the original, we'll never know.)

An episode where Dean gets to wear eyeliner

That's it, end of post.

I want less

Racism

Yeah I feel like this is self explanatory, nearly every reoccurring character in SPN is white, and black side characters normally die in the episode they first appear in, or they'll be featured as a villain (Uriel, Raphael, Billie, etc)

Also there's a lot of... uh... asian fetishism featured in the show (what with "Busty Asian Beauties) that's really gross, also Kevin was a bit of a stereotype...

Also also it's super yucky how they kill the gods from other religions like???? Uh??? That's super disrespectful, let's not do that????

I know Supernatural is like, inherently racist because monsters are a separate race that are seen as some dangerous "other" that must be eradicated by hunters in a form of genocide-

Okay we won't get into that but

Still

Stop killing all your POC

Fridgings/Unecessary murders of female characters

I know Supernatural starts with a fridging, so this will be a hard thing to remedy, but

One death that really pissed me off was the death of Charlie

Yeah, that was pointless and we're not doing that. Charlie gets to live and be an awesome aunt to Jack.

And also Claire

Charlie Bradbury Superiority

Charlie and Garth get to meet because they're nerd/geek solidarity.

British Men of Letters

I fucking hate these guys

They're "litcherally" the worst.

The worst part is that the actors they have playing the British AREN'T. EVEN. BRITISH.

And you can tell

Uh, and that's all for now, I'll add more later.

tag list for people who liked my "if this post gets one like I'll post my SPN reboot masterpost" post.

@darianyunidi @sarasidlesaid @crazybananaalpaca @playfulpanthress @ultfreakme @fififeelsmellow @heller-char @luna8eaton @princessmeganfire @insanebot109 @queenofnightsnow @mongoose-underthehouse

Thank you for the support, hope the wait was worth it.

[terramythos]

TerraMythos 2021 Reading Challenge - Book 23 of 26

Title: Stories of the Raksura, Volume Two (2015)

Author: Martha Wells

Genre/Tags: Fantasy, Adventure, Short Story Collection, Third-Person, LGBT Protagonist, Female Protagonist

Rating: 8/10 (note: this is an average)

Date Began: 8/30/2021

Date Finished: 9/8/2021

Stories of the Raksura, Volume Two is the second of two short story/novella collections that take place in the Books of the Raksura universe. As before, I recommend reading the original trilogy if you’re interested in this series— otherwise you will be pretty confused. You can check out my review of The Cloud Roads here. 

Of the two novellas and three short stories in this volume, my favorites were “The Dead City” and “The Dark Earth Below”, both of which got a 9/10 from me.

Individual ratings, content warnings, and minor series spoilers below the cut.

Content warnings for the book: Suicidal ideation, graphic violence, gore, death, parental disownment, childbirth.  

#1 - The Dead City (9/10)

Fleeing from the ruins of Saraseil, Moon attempts to process his trauma. After wandering aimlessly, he stumbles upon a small village troubled by a rash of strange disappearances. Moon resolves to uncover a mysterious threat and save the locals— but he must hide his true identity lest they turn on him.

He was tired of looking at dead groundlings, tired of feeling sorry for them. The Fell had hunted them through the streets of Saraseil, dug through the walls of their houses. There was a raw lump of emotion in his chest, boiling and expanding until it felt as if it was going to burst through his scales.

He wanted to make somebody else feel sorry.

This story really clicked with me; it’s more emotionally intense than many stories in this series. It’s also one of the few glimpses we get of Moon before discovering the Raksura, and the difference between this painfully lonely version of him and the version we get throughout the series is quite striking. Things gets better, Moon, I swear! The prose is also on point and very entertaining to read. I found the monsters in this story pretty creepy; basically a Three Worlds take on zombies.

Even so, I had trouble understanding why I liked this story so much, but then I realized— it’s a freaking Murderbot plot. Hyper competent, emotionally stunted loner stumbles upon a bunch of strangers in need, and decides they must help said strangers without being able to articulate why… all while hiding their secret identity. Cue a bunch of badass action scenes spliced together with emotionally charged self-reflection. This is in no way a criticism, because I LOVE that plot, and it’s kind of funny to see a Murderbot prototype in the Raksura universe.

#2 - Mimesis (8/10)

Jade is on a diplomatic mission with a small contingent of warriors. When one of the younger ones disappears, she searches the nearby forest to find him. But she soon discovers much more than she bargained for.  

Of course, the lesson might be that instead of the court losing one warrior it was about to lose a warrior and a sister queen, just because Jade didn’t want to look like a coward. And maybe a predator’s burrow wasn’t a good place for an inner debate about responsibility and leadership.

This is a very short story, about the length of a standard chapter. But I did enjoy it; it’s nice to have a story from Jade’s POV. The monster here is maybe the creepiest one in the series? I like how its whole deal ties into the title. Other than that, not a whole lot to say about this one.

#3 - Trading Lesson (7/10)

A group of wandering traders visit the Indigo Cloud colony tree. Moon notices one attempting to swindle a Raksura, and promptly puts a stop to it.

Moon’s attempt to appear innocent and only mildly interested was clearly failing, so he said, “I like amber fine. I don’t like traders that take advantage of people.” Iglen wasn’t obligated to play fairly. But Moon wasn’t obligated to let him get away with it, either.

If “Mimesis” seemed short, this one is really only a few pages long. It’s basically a slice-of-life scene at Indigo Cloud. It’s some fun bonus content if you want to see a fragment of daily life among the Raksura, but not much else.

#4 - The Almost Last Voyage of the Wind-Ship Escarpment (8/10)

Jai is the captain of a small wind-ship with a tight-knit crew. Their newest member is a young man named Flaren, recently disowned and left for dead by his family. Jai feels an especially strong kinship with him— but when Flaren’s father offers her crew a job to deliver ransom in an active hostage situation, Flaren sees it as an opportunity to regain favor with his family.

Not only would they be rescuing people who were badly in need of rescuing, stuck-up Issilan nobles though they were, but the rest of the payment Canon Hain had promised was so large they couldn’t afford to pass it up. “The pirates want their ransom, we want their hostages and our payment for freeing them. If it goes well, everyone gets what they want.”

Everyone nodded, reassured, and Jai felt the tension ease. Then Shiri had to say darkly, “You hope that’s all they want.”

Honestly, I’ve always wanted to see a story that takes place in the Three Worlds, but doesn’t have anything to do with the Raksura. This is one such story, and I found it entertaining! I liked the themes of found family— specifically that love shouldn’t be conditional. It’s a cute story with some good action scenes.

#5 - The Dark Earth Below (9/10)

Jade is pregnant and close to giving birth, sending Moon into an anxious spiral. At the worst possible time, the Indigo Cloud colony finds itself the target of trouble. A small party of groundling explorers are found poisoned and near death along the forest floor. Moon finds both himself and the colony stalked by an invisible threat; but figuring out what it is and what it wants proves to be a challenge.

Stone growled and rubbed his face in frustration. Moon sympathized. He added, “I know, this doesn’t make sense.”

“It makes sense,” Stone countered. “We just don’t know why yet.”

This novella is the longest story in this collection; roughly half the book. “The Dark Earth Below” feels different than many Raksura stories. It’s a mix of domestic everyday life and a tense suspense plot. These might seem contradictory, but it totally works. It’s nice to see Moon and Jade interact as a bickering couple, a dimension of their relationship we don’t see much of in the main series. There’s some major catharsis seeing Moon at a point where he’s finally happy, a far cry from his character in “The Dead City”. At the same time, the suspense story (plus creepy monster; a running theme of this collection) is gripping. There’s something about an invisible threat stalking the main characters that really gets to me— and its final reveal sure is something.

Closing Thoughts

I ended up liking this collection a little more than the first one! These anthologies are great for anyone looking for more Raksura content after reading the main series. But I can’t recommend them if you’re not already familiar with at least the original trilogy. If you do end up reading the Raksura books, let me know what you think!

[janekfan]

aah i just sent this prompt but tumblr told me it didn't send so if it sent twice ignore this!! so prompt: how about early s2, where jon is pulling away a bit but the others are concerned about it more than angry, getting a horrific migraine. like "has to leave a team meeting early" horrific. and the others know he wants to be left alone and try to respect it, but eventually they can't just ignore it anymore. <3 if you don't like this i can try again!

Oof, migraines. Amiright??? This is based on a personal experience of mine I had in college :D

My whole floor thought I was dying and almost dragged me to the hospital.

Thank you @taylortut as always for giving me such great ideas! :D

Looking back, Jon felt incredibly foolish.

Insisting that he could persist through his day without taking medication for headaches when it resulted in the same outcome every time was the very definition of insanity.

But, in his flimsy defense, they never started out badly and he got so caught up in his work that by the time he realized what was happening, it was far, far too late to do anything but suffer it out until it ended. Which is how he found himself here, now, nearly completely blind in his right eye while Elias droned on about workplace safety and considering recent events it seemed laughably mundane because yes, back strain from lifting incorrectly certainly outweighed a sentient worm queen trying to devour your assistants.

Filled with a desperate desire to rub away the disorientating blind spot, Jon let his focus slip over his employees.

Tim: bored. Not doing anything to hide it and Jon supposed he was at fault for that too, because he was certainly not paying Elias any mind.

Sasha: attentive. Most likely thinking of something else entirely while she nodded along to the lecture notes at the appropriate places.

Martin: engrossed. Despite his suspicions, mostly due to the constant checking in with him about how he was feeling, and really, maybe that was on him because maybe that’s what coworkers did after bravely surviving an onslaught of supernatural entities together. Despite them, he found it. Pleasant? Pleasant. That he would commit the effort to pay such careful attention.

Jon: quickly realizing this meeting would not be finished by the time the majority of the pain struck him like an oncoming lorry. By his estimations, based on when he first noticed the aura as a funny spot in his peripheral he tried to see around, he had roughly three minutes left.

Elias continued to endlessly intone while the buzzing lights continued to beat down on him and Jon fought against closing his eyes against them both and their ceaseless stabbing. Two minutes. Probably less and the anxiety which accompanied knowing almost exactly when he was about to be incapacitated rose like a tide and threatened to drag him under. Jon began to shake minutely as the agony manifested like an icepick in the back of his head and spread its grasping, greedy fingers. It took the rest of his very limited restraint to stay silent and keep breathing; shallow and slow, controlled and careful because the nausea was beginning to set in and throwing up during a staff meeting was at the very least, unwise.

But oh he needed somewhere silent, somewhere he could hide in total darkness and not move until he was able to force himself to sleep, to sleep, to sleep because that was the only way he’d found to make it through to the other side.

“Jon?” He was standing, blinking unevenly, fighting with himself and his desire to shield his face with both hands. The sound of his name was too loud. So loud and the murmuring of the others in the room created a beautiful sensory nightmare and if they knew his head was about to split open would they really be speaking so loudly? Doubtful. Martin. Martin wouldn’t at least.

“I’m leaving.” Inadequate, but he didn’t have the wherewithal to elaborate even if in his right mind he wouldn’t. And this wasn’t even the worst of it.

Each step was a rung up the ladder of agony and he’d taken to trailing a hand against the wall, not trusting his quickly dwindling balance and equilibrium. Rudely, without his express permission, a sob snuck past his clenched teeth and he just had to make it down the stairs, into the archives. Into the dark. The cot was still in document storage and the room would be dim and quiet and he could sleep. Please, let him sleep. Trembling so badly he could barely work the door handle, desperation doing its level best to claw its way through his ribcage, Jon began to panic. Gently, gently, gently, he closed the door behind him, trying to breathe because not breathing would make it worse. The buttons at his throat were so tight, the vest, while comfortable this morning was strangling him and he fought his way out of it like a tiger before all but tearing open his collar.

Sh. Shh. You’re alright. Shaky. Ill. But alright and you will be alright. Jon collapsed to the cot, sighing at the momentary relief laying down provided but there was still so much light and it was like glass behind his eyes even though they were closed as tightly as he dared close them. The blanket that had been left behind was very contradictory, too much and not nearly enough, and when it brushed the bare skin of his arms it felt like sandpaper but he wanted more of it. More weight so he could relax without feeling as though he was going to drift away because who even knew which way was up anymore? If he hadn’t left the meeting, he could’ve asked.

Don’t cry. Do. Not. Jonathan Sims. It made it worse, so much worse so he kept his tears trapped behind a false calm. Each time he’d thought he would die from one of these or at the very least prefer it and each time he woke the next day groggy and sore and exhausted, useless for anything except more sleep. He dropped his glasses on the floor, hugged his middle with one arm and threw the other over his face.

Please, please, please.

Just go to sleep.

“I’ll thank the rest of you for continued attention.” Martin nodded absently, worried. Jon didn’t just walk out of meetings. And he’d been so pale, rubbing his temple and wincing. A bad headache? He got those sometimes.

Didn’t like to be bothered about them either.

He caught Tim staring at him over the table, done with his paperclip sculpture for now it seemed, and he nodded just slightly toward the door with a questioning look. Martin just shrugged discreetly, now too distracted to pay attention to whatever Elias deemed important enough to waste their time with after an attack on the archives. Needless to say, the rest of the hour passed excruciatingly slow and as soon as they were released, Martin headed straight for Jon’s office, momentarily confused when it was empty.

“Not there?” Martin shook his head and Tim frowned in concern. “The cot? Maybe he needed a lie down?”

“You’re probably right.”

“Still strange.” He nodded in agreement, already headed to check, knocking quietly on the worn wood.

“Jon?” Martin swore he heard something suspiciously like a whimper before his voice floated through the door.

“Yes, Martin?” It was strange, off, wavery? The tail end of a gasping breath.

“You just, you left in such a hurry.” He’d give anything to open the door and see for himself. “Are you feeling well?”

“I’m. Yes, Martin, I’m, I’m alright.” Jon was many things, a good liar was not one of them, but he was the type to lick his wounds alone, preferring not to show any vulnerability and Martin would respect it. “Bit tired.”

“Okay, I’ll. Check on you in a bit then. Bring some tea.”

“Yes, alright.” Despite his worry, Martin smiled at the tiny familiar spark of frustration.

When Martin spoke his voice seemed to echo in the hollows of Jon’s bones, reverberating into his head and only exacerbating the throbbing pain, not even really aware of what he was saying, just trying to get him to go away so he could be as still as possible in silence. The more he moved, the more it felt like his stomach was trying to turn inside out and the fear of moving, of being sick, of causing himself more hurt, made tears sting at the corners of his eyes, made him itch where they slipped down his face.

If it would just stop for a moment. If he could just fall asleep. Calm down. Stand to have anything against his skin right now.

He wanted to be alone and not be alone. Wanted Martin or Tim or Sasha to, to, he didn’t know, just wanted. The strange disconnect from his physical body was maddening, confusing, and he wanted so badly for it to please stop.

When Martin looked up, Sasha was so close to his desk he startled. He hadn’t heard her but she looked worried.

“I don’t think Jon is feeling very well.”

“I don’t think so either.”

“He’s been in there all day.” Tim joined them. “Maybe we should check on him again?” Martin looked at the clock. It had been hours since he’d talked to him and he had yet to reappear.

“You’re probably right.” This time, it was definitely a hurting sound and Martin decided it was for Jon’s own good to let himself in. He’d only just recovered from Prentiss, what if the stress had made him ill? “Jon?” He was curled into himself on the cot, clothes in disarray, vest discarded and half the blanket piled atop his face. When the door closed, Jon clapped his hand over his ear, the other tangled into his button down so tight Martin was afraid he’d pop the buttons. “You’re shaking.”

“Mmartin…” the barest exhale, pleading. “S’loud…so...so loud…”

“Okay, okay, what’s wrong?” He knelt beside him, resting his hand over Jon’s. “How can I help?”

“Jus’...jus’ need t’sleep.” Shuddering, his breath caught, was released, uneven, fast, gasping. “Can’t.” He decided at that moment that sound should never come from Jon again, not if ever he could help it and the fingers that had been digging into his greying hair were now clutching Martin’s.

“Okay. I’m coming back.” Jon seemed to collapse inward like a star and it was hard to leave him but he’d seen migraines before and it had been hours since what he guessed was the onset. “Tim, do you have any paracetamol?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Jon’s not well, of course.”

“Figures.”

“This time I really think it wasn’t his fault. These things sometimes come on suddenly.” Tim grumbled, digging through his desk and heading with Martin to the breakroom for some water, waiting while he brewed a strong black tea.

“He gets a pass. One time, Martin. This one time.” While the tea cooled Martin retrieved a few cloths from the drawer and a bowl of water.

“He needs quiet. Everything is really overwhelming right now. A lot of input and nowhere for it to go.”

“You’re the boss, Marto.” With a jaunty salute, Tim followed, staying calm and quiet, kneeling down to Jon’s level before whispering a greeting. “Hey. Gonna get you fixed right up.”

“Nnng…okay.”

“Jon? We’re going to help you sit up.” With no refusal forthcoming, Tim and Martin shared a look of alarm before lifting him as though he were made of spun glass and he buried his face in Martin’s soft, well worn jumper. “Good, Jon.” Martin pressed his palm against his forehead and found it cold and a little clammy, his clothes clung slightly with sweat and it seemed like he had trouble coordinating his limbs.

“Hur’s…” trembling, his muscles spasmed randomly, and Tim had to help hold his hand steady enough for a dose of paracetamol while Martin followed quickly with the bitter tea, washing the taste away with a sip of water.

“Okay, love. Doing such a good job. Almost done.” More tears. He went to nod, instead ending up with his head hanging, neck too tired to hold it up any longer and Martin eased him back down onto the pillow. “Let me know if this is too much.” He wrung out a flannel and smoothed it over his eyes, pleased when Jon groaned in slight relief. Tim stroked his hair, soft and slow, and together they waited, watched his shivering gradually stop and his breath deepen into sleep.

Sasha met them outside the door and Martin stepped further down the hall, just in case they were loud enough to wake him.

“Well?”

“He’s asleep, bad migraine.” Martin winced in sympathy, “and hopefully he’ll sleep through until morning.”

“That’s a relief.” Collectively, they agreed. Jon had been under a lot of pressure lately and while he’d never been one to confide in them often even those moments were becoming rare

Jon felt heavy, tired and slow, and when Martin opened the door with a mug of tea in one hand and a plate of toast in the other, he reasoned that he hadn’t dreamt the entirety of the day previous. Which meant he did sit through most of Elias’ dry speech about safety.

Embarrassing. To have walked out like that.

“Martin.” The memory of gentle hands and a soft voice made him flush.

“Jon, how’re you feeling?”

“Better, uh, much better. Thank you.” Sitting up was only somewhat a chore, the dizziness faded into the background for the most part. The fogginess was expected and would last a few days but for now he accepted the tea graciously, eyed the toast suspiciously, and settled on another round of painkillers and a few mouthfuls until he thought he might be pushing it. “Thank you, Martin.” He’d been in a bad way and at his wit’s end before he and Tim essentially rescued him. Passing back the empty mug and setting the remaining toast aside, Jon decided he deserved a lie in especially considering he was in that fragile inbetween where turning his head too fast would trigger another one. “If you see Tim before me, would you pass on my gratitude?”

“‘Course I will” Martin retrieved the dishes and turned back before closing the door. “Sleep well, Jon.”

[rhiezus]

Special Q&A with Moon Nayoung.

now that you’re not an actress anymore, the world is dying to know: what is moon nayoung doing?

what a pesky devil of you. it’s not like i’m very busy but it’s not i want to be busy, so eating well, sleeping well, travelling, picking different hobbies, spending a lot of time on youtube. i’m unemployed, but gladly.

do you ever plan on acting again?

noo, i loved acting but that phase of my life is over. i am ready to be myself and no else for quite some time. i encourage acting though, it’s an exercise and it was an experience.

we saw your cat a lot on your social media, what’s is their name?

oh, when we started this i was crossing my fingers thinking: please talk about my cats. in all forms expect physical, i’m a cat. so i found manwol in a shelter, she looked me in the eye suspiciously and i thought “she is testing me”, so i took her home to complete her task. she is always watching me, i don’t know if like a affectionate way, however she is very jealous of the people around me and for that reason i think we identify with each other. i don’t remember my boyfriend’s cat names though, he has many and they just keep adding, i just call them what i feel like calling them and they always answer, it’s like an unspoken connection.

when are you and keun getting married though?

it’s that a thing you’d like to see? think we should live it for the world and charge a few to enter the livestream?

what’s the most used app on your phone?

it’s between my yoga app, subway surfaces and piano tiles. people often underestimate how good i am with phone games, not that i am bragging but i’ve had years of boredom and that adds to the experience.

we heard you like cooking, what’s your favorite dish to cook right now?

my favorite thing to cook... is spaghetti, there is like a hundred ways to do them differently and i love noodles. garlicky spaghetti, vegetable spaghetti, crock-pot spaghetti, the famous carbonara... there is baked spaghetti, it’s one of my favorites, chicken spaghetti, there is even a million dollar spaghetti that’s great and super easy. but last week i aced the tagine, it’s from maroccos. fun fact is most people think the word tagine is the meal itself but tagine is actually the cookware used to cook the meal. the reason for using a tagine is to make a dish tender and bring out its natural flavors. 

what’s the place you want to travel the most?

i would love to go somewhere on the american continent, because their food is rich and it’s very different from asia but at the same time i don’t like travelling for long periods and spending too much time on a plane. i would like to see mexico or argentina, maybe even cuba too. 

which of your friends are you most proud of? and why?

i don’t have that many friends, it’s not that hard to choose between them. the one that most accomplished things this year was bonghu, but that’s mainly because she got pregnant and i admire her nerve. she is a great friend, mom, person, woman and all in general so that makes me proud. 

what’s the song you sing along when you hear it?

ring ring.

who is the last person you texted? and what as the text about?

it was my friend group, i send a bear emoji with a blinking heart. i can’t recall what was the conversation about, it just called for a cute bear emoji.

how is your morning routine? 

i wake up, look into my phone for like fifteen minutes to an hour (there is no in-between), i go pee and take a shower, do my skincare, feed the cats, cook breakfast, eat breakfast, go jogging or hit the gym. now in quarantine i would do yoga at home, but since it’s better now i just go jogging again. and that takes about my whole morning.

who was your first celebrity crush?

i think it was patrick swayze, but also harrison ford. 

what’s on your mind like right now?

this. i mean? what else? i don’t know. 

what do you spent way too much money on?

masterclass online classes! i find it so interesting even though i know i don’t have the vocation of being a professional in that area, i mean... it’s just so great. i started paying for gordon ramsey’s classes, because i love that man but now i think i’ve even seen natalie portamn, anna wintour and even usher’s classes. 

what’s the most cringy worthy thing you’ve seen someone post on social media?

i’m not one to judge cause all i have are cats and food, and that’s the most cringy worthy you can ever get on social media but i hate when people do this long captions like, no one is gonna read it and they know it but they just do that too sound smart and meaningful. i mean there’s nothing you can really say that can’t be said in private, right? i don’t know.

what was the last show you binge-watched?

finished you a few days ago, don’t know if it was worth it, but i did it anyways. there was stranger too, season two was very well done.

what is your favorite item of clothing?

my favorite item of clothing? hm, i think is black high waist pants because one) it’s comfy. two) it’s cheap. 3) it goes with anything in your wardrobe. 4) and with any weather or mood.  

what are you passionate about?

i think... i’m passionate about just living, i mean. focusing on the present feeling and go from there, you know?! no need to be anxious about things you can’t see, while being responsible about the things you do right now and just work with that, like, make your lemonades. 

what’s the best part of your 20′s? what are you taking from this age?

hm. there is a lot of figuring out, from yourself and from others, nothing is certain and everything is fragile but also soothing and exciting. like there is many things i wanna do but also i don’t feel like doing, it’s a contradictory age that’s just hard to understand. i was not one to feel nostalgic or regret things, but as you get older you start to do that and you have to remind yourself that is a way to learn and be better. so for me, the best part is truly looking at yourself differently everyday, changing is inevitable so you have to keep remembering who you are and what you stand for in order to keep going. i hope that i am taking a better person from this. also make good friends, that’s probably the best advice and best part of your 20′s.

who was the last person you had a deep conversation with?

i don’t have many deep conversations, i am more the type that listens. but when i do it’s just thoughts, like now in this interview. so probably my last deep conversation is this, because you’re asking me things that are hard not to be deep about.

best advice you received from someone.

advice’s can be fragile and change from time to time, so the only one i think is right is about being kind to others, that sounds basic but that’s because it’s suppose to be. 

what’s the one food you can’t bring yourself to eat?

funny enough, i don’t like egg. like fried egg, i mean if it’s in the food and as an ingredient, i don’t really mind but as a meal itself... i don’t really like it. i don’t care for tofu either, i can eat it though.

if you were in a band, what kind of music would you play?

i would go for r&b but it would become popular quick so i’d have to make it pop but with still a little r&b vibe, know what i mean? but i can’t really sing, or play any instrument.

if it would have a movie about your life, what would be the title?

did you listen to folklore, the taylor swift album? i came across mad woman, and i really like that song, i think something like that... it doesn’t need to be something big and meaningful, just moon nayoung it’s fine. but i don’t want a movie about my life, there is many other important stories to tell.

do you believe in astrology? 

i don’t really have an opinion. i’m a sagittarius, who are suppose to be really free spirits, curious and idealistic, which i don’t know if it’s me or not. so i think is funny but i don’t really care.

do you consider yourself romantic? what’s the most romantic gesture you have done?

me? i don’t know. i don’t think i do things in name of romance, i do them because i want to. that sounds sooo bitter, but i swear it’s not! i may be a romantic though, but i am not hopeless, at least not anymore. cooking for your partner counts as big romantic gesture? cause i’ve done that a lot.

what was your favorite book as a child?

peter pan and little women. i probably didn’t wanna grew up, right?!

do you prefer baths or showers?

i like both, but i prefer showers because it takes less time and it’s more practical. cold showers in the summer all the way.

tell something you learn that you wish more people would too.

pay your bills before due date, mark them on your calendar or something and try to pay them before it’s due. even if it leave you broke for a few days, if you take your time it will only make you more lazy and it will become a habit. 

now leave us with a secret that no one knows about you.

there is not much people don’t know about me anymore and if there is, that’s the reason why it’s a secret, am i right? but maybe i call tell you that i already cheated on a text or something, cause that’s all i have for you. sorry.

[personalcoachingcenter]

Flexibility: One Self, Multiple Roles

New Post has been published on https://personalcoachingcenter.com/flexibility-one-self-multiple-roles/

Flexibility: One Self, Multiple Roles

A Coaching Model By Milagros Echecopar, Evolution Coach, PERU

There is no reality except the one contained within us. That is why so many people live such unreal life. They take the images outside of them for reality and never allow the world within to assert itself. Hermann Hesse,Steppenwolf

I have been what people call a devoted and surrogate caregiving daughter. I have also been a loving mother, a successful international executive, a supporting wife, and some more, all at the same time. And I can tell, it’s demanding, very demanding, to a point where I lost sight of who I was. To deal with all that was required of me, to be the best I could in each role, I unconsciously started to tamper down certain aspects of my personality, and disregard feelings I thought were not serving me.

Thinking I was being clever, doing the right thing, excelling in all my roles, I was so wrong. I might have looked smart, I might have looked like I was doing a great job, but I could have done much better because I was failing in being ME (funny how those are my initials, although MEK is what many people call me).

We tend to live putting labels on ourselves and to others: I’m a daughter, I’m a mother, I’m an executive, I’m a coach, you are a teacher, you are a grandfather, you are an artist, etc. It’s fine to have those labels, they help us identify the roles we are performing and provide information about ourselves, but they do not define us.

The titles we accumulate during our lives can be enriching, bring us joy and fulfillment, but they can also become planks that, one after the other, build a wall, a box, that hides our true selves from us, from others. And they can become heavy, hiding our inner self, and constricting, limiting the space for personal traits that we think, feel do not serve us to be at our bests while performing the roles those titles entail.

And therein lies my problem with those labels, when they start to define who we are, when we, or others, use them to put us in a particular box. Those labels define the role we are performing but do not constitute a definition of our core, our inner self.  When the way we live our lives is determined by those labels, by the boxes in which we or others have put ourselves, we live in stress. In stress between what is required from us to fulfill those roles and who we are, what drives us, what we need to feel whole, at peace with the way we live our lives, and at peace with the roles we are performing at that moment.

I started this journey with my mother in mind, but along the way, I’ve found it has been for me too, and for all who face the challenge of performing at their best different roles, especially working caregivers. So many of us are daughters, mothers, wives, workers, and caregivers, all at the same time.

The paradox is that even though we are the same person in each of those roles, we are not. While performing those roles, we tend to show only the sides of ourselves that we consider serve us better for said roles; and we, and the people around us, get used to that representation of ourselves.

  We and they are oblivious of the different traits of our personalities that can be of so much value, but that we only bring in when performing other roles, if they have not been wholly disregarded. What is worst is that we and they are not conscious of the demands that the accumulation of titles puts on us. People forget a human being is performing that role and see only the executive, the father, the son, but not the whole person.

Initially, I had thought about focusing primarily on informal caregivers because I have seen and experienced the challenges one faces when performing that role. Of course, I still would like to work with them. But now, looking back at my own experience and my coaching journey so far, I realize that the challenges caregivers face can be similar to those faced by people who find themselves defined by their titles and do not integrate their whole selves in the different roles they are performing.

Life sometimes throughs at us roles we did not ask for, we did not foresee, we do not want, as in the case of caregivers, but we feel we must take them on. Life also sometimes takes away from the roles we were attached to, we liked, we felt proud of, as when we are laid off. When either of those happens, many different feelings can arise within us: frustration, anger, despair, fear, insecurity. We might feel that something is not entirely right within ourselves but can’t put the finger on it. And since we must keep performing our other roles, we disregard those feelings and focus on what “serves” us to keep going.

That’s what happens when a loved one suddenly is diagnosed with an impairing illness, and we are put in the role of caregivers. It’s so unexpected that some of us do not even recognize ourselves as caregivers, despite its impact on our lives, and we just go on doing what is expected of us as good daughters, mothers, wives, husbands. Roberts&Donahue (1994) indicate that caretaking has adverse effects on the well-being of the caretaker and that it can be impacting the satisfaction they feel about the role they associate with caregiving.

They found that was the case of middle-aged women who associated their role as daughters with caregiving. It’s also what happens when someone is promoted and is now the manager of her/his previous partners. The new title comes with an array of expectations from us and from others, not only about our performance but also about the way we conduct ourselves. Or when we are laid off and find ourselves without the title that we and others identified as what defines us.

As contradictory as it might sound to all I’ve exposed so far about titles, not recognizing that being a caregiver is a different role from being a daughter, a husband, a mother adds an unnecessary layer of difficulty to our role. Not being conscious of what might change in the way people interact with us after a promotion makes the transition harder. Not being truly aware that we are much more than the roles we play can leave us mourning for a phase that is no longer going to come back and missing all the opportunities to create new paths for ourselves.

Because it is not about disregarding the roles we are performing, it’s about embracing them and making them our own without losing sight that they do not define us. If we are not conscious of the differences between our various roles and the diverse traits of our personalities that go beyond those roles, we cannot determine what within our vast array of personal resources we can use and where we will need help.

Fleeson and colleagues’ research, as cited in Wundrack et al. (2018), suggests that everyone will eventually express the entire range of possible personality state levels but that there are individual differences in the frequency with which the different state levels occur in everyday life. Furthermore, Hung Kit Fok et al.(2007) suggest that personality serves as a vital factor in orchestrating the organization of the ”if-then” associations between situational factors and endorsement of different display rules.

If we are conditioned by the titles we carry, the way we display our different personality state levels is also conditioned. Thus, the more conscious we are of what influences that display, the more in command we will be, and the better equipped we will be to dig into the richness of our personalities to perform our roles.

What if we were to acknowledge the new roles, the demands they entail, and embrace them? What if we were to acknowledge that that phase of our life is gone? What if we were to acknowledge that, despite those changes, we are still the US with all the good and “bad”? What if we were to acknowledge our whole selves and bring it in our different roles and stages in our lives?

That’s what drives me as a coach, partnering with people who want to embrace who they are at that moment in their lives, uncover the richness of their inner selves, bring their whole being in their different roles, and realize how much fulfilling their lives can be when they do so.

It’s like composing a piece of music; sometimes, one instrument, or a group of instruments, will take center stage while others play at different levels. Still, they are all integrated to produce that unique and beautiful piece of music. If one instrument is missing, the music might still sound good, but it can be more beautiful if all of them are playing at their proper time. And it doesn’t have to be a rigid composition; it can be like jazz, flexible, adapting to the context, the mood, and the musicians’ abilities.

How is this connected to coaching? I propose that by partnering with a coach, clients can move from a place where they are disregarding different aspects of their personalities and disregarding their need to tend to themselves to a place where they acknowledge and integrate those aspects in the way they live, they perform their different roles and interact with their loved ones, families, friends, colleagues, etc. Clients can become more flexible, be able to find better ways to integrate their different personality traits while transitioning through diverse roles and evolve.

Flexibility: One Self, Multiple Roles Coaching Model

Coaching provides a safe space for clients to stand on their vulnerability and tackle the complex task of understanding their mental state in real life, which requires considerations of their circumstances, beliefs, knowledge, feelings, intentions, and personality (Wundrack et al., 2018). Coaching is also about partnering with clients and supporting them in finding ways to move forward. But, if their process is conditioned by their titles and clients are unaware of it, how can they genuinely understand themselves? How can they be conscious of what is holding them back and of all the resources they could use to move in the direction they desire?

Thus, some of the questions I would endeavor to help clients find their answers to would be: what are the belief, value that anchors their current perspective, and the role they are performing? How can they take perspective and let go of that anchor and/or their unconscious bias? What would it take for them to move into action to shorten the distance between who they are, who they can be, and how they are perceived by themselves and others? How can they find a more satisfactory way to perform their roles? Because, as Roberts&Donahue (1994) note, the similarity between descriptions of any given social role and who we are (our general self) could be related to the degree to which we feel committed to and satisfied with that role.

We would work with clients to help them let go of anchors that keep them stuck and inflexible; accept and acknowledge the multiple options and perspectives available to them and integrate their whole selves and roles, building a different relationship with them and making transition processes smoother and more fulfilling.

For that to happen, we consider that a Sense of Coherence (SOC), as defined by Antonovsky (1979)as cited in Eyzaguirre (2018), is needed. SOC is the global orientation one has towards life and the ability to perceive it in a dynamic, lasting, and confident way. According to Eyzaguirre (2018), the three dimensions of SOC are:

Comprehensibility: ability to understand and explain the situation faced, becoming predictable by the person;

Manageability: having the own internal resources that are available in the person to be able to face the situation and be able to control it; and

Emotional sense: the situation has a meaning for the person and is therefore considered as a commitment capable of challenging and facing.

Antonovsky (1993), as cited in Eyzaguirre (2018), sustains that the more developed and strengthened the SOC is, the greater the willingness to perceive life events as less stressful and with greater control and meaning over them. For example, in the case of caregivers, they found that the greater their SOC, the more balanced and positive care they would provide. They sustain that this is because SOC as a resource allows them to see the patient’s disease as less threatening and, instead, perceive reality from the healthiest.

Moreover, according to Eyzaguirre (2018), Antonovsky (1994) indicated that successful coping with stressful events brings positive health consequences and is therefore expected to influence satisfaction, happiness, and positive affect. Thus, “the development of a strong SOC in the face of the burden and the stressful stimulus, allows to reinforce and improve the health of the person, by the cognitive and emotional capacity to identify the dimensions of the problem as probabilities and as challenges that can be explained and overcome by the internal resources themselves” (Antonovsky, 1979as cited in Eyzaguirre, 2018).

Based on the benefits that a highly developed SOC can bring to our clients, we propose working with them on growing and strengthen their SOC.  To create a process that can contribute to a fruitful journey, we have considered models like Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT), Relational Frame Theory (RFT), and Hulbert-Williams et al.’s (2016)Contextual Behavioral Coaching (CBC).

As per the description provided by Han et al. (2021), citing Hayes et al.(2012), ACT is based on a psychological flexibility model, and some of the aspects covered when applying this model are:

cognitive defusion (i.e., stepping back or detaching from unhelpful thoughts and emotions to reduce their dominance over behaviors);

self-as-context (i.e., observing thoughts and emotions without judgment);

values (identifying and connecting values to behaviors for a meaningful life); and

committed action (making efforts to establish patterns of actions/behaviors to live a meaningful life aligned with values).

Grounded in contextual behavioral science, relational frame theory (RFT) explores language and thoughts’ origins and philosophical connotations (PsycInfo Database Record, 2020). Building on that, Hulbert-Williams et al. (2016) take both ACT and RFT and incorporate Contextual Behavioural Science concepts to propose a third approach which they call Contextual Behavioural Coaching (CBC).

Integrating the concepts and tools provided by ACT, RFT, and CBC, we would partner with our clients to develop and strengthen their SOC to find inner balance and satisfaction in the different roles they perform.

The stages we would cover throughout our work with our clients would be exploration, identify anchors, take perspective, flexibility, and action.

Exploration

This aspect of the coaching process will aim to deepen client’s self-understanding and increase their acceptance of challenges.

In a study conducted by Hulbert-Williams et al. (2016), they worked with a patient to help her contact her feelings of stuckness and the accompanying thoughts of failure. Then, they traced how she would numb these feelings with busyness (and occasionally, wine); and identified that such behaviors seemed to be serving the function of experiential avoidance. By exploring her feelings, she deepened the understanding of herself and what was driving her behavior.

In the case of caregivers, Han et al. (2021) cite Brodaty&Donki (2009), found that accepting the losses of relatives’ abilities and care demands assists family caregivers to better adapt.

Identify Anchors

When we look at identifying anchors, we will partner with clients to find what they are fused to; what stories they are telling themselves that bring rigidity to the way they undertake their different roles in life.

AsHulbert-Williams et al. (2016) indicate, being fused to specific stories we tell ourselves leads to fixed patterns of behavior which can be unworkable in the context of client values and desired goals. In a state of fusion, it can be hard to separate ourselves from our thoughts.

Looking back at what we initially described as how we can be conditioned by specific roles, Hayes et al. (1986), as cited in Hulbert-Williams et al. (2016), found that rule-governed behavior is inflexible. That is, in the presence of unwritten rules, human behavior can often fail to respond to other contingencies of reinforcement.

Working with our clients on identifying and acknowledging those anchors and rule-governed behaviors will contribute to channel their energy in more positive, productive, and flexible ways.

Take Perspective

We propose taking perspective as providing psychological space between self and thoughts for clients to challenge their current view and raise awareness that their perspective is transient.

Hulbert-Williams et al. (2016) propose that techniques which encourage defusion can be helpful, especially when clients describe feeling stuck in a given pattern of behavior. Such techniques help clients move from a place where they try to battle with those behaviors, and the associated thoughts, to a place where they notice them and are curious about them – ‘defusing’ from them to provide a bit of psychological breathing space between themselves and their thoughts.

To take perspective, the previous step, identifying anchors, is required, as perspective-taking involves two processes: anchoring and adjustment (Wundrack et al., 2018). We need to establish the initial anchoring perspective, the person’s perspective, from which clients start, so clients find ways to challenge it and raise awareness that said perspective is temporal, transient. Being aware that their current perspective is transient and only one of many possible perspectives undermines the significance of their point of view as an anchor when considering other perspectives. Therefore, clients may be more able or willing to deviate from their perspectives and may be open to making more adjustments (Wundrack et al., 2018).

Broadening the number of possible perspectives, incorporating how thoughts, feelings, behaviors, and circumstances fit together in their lives, can help clients build a richer repertoire of plausible, self-experienced perspectives that facilitates adjustment (Wundrack et al., 2018). This process, called perspective-pooling, builds on the increased growth in diverse experiences over time. In other words, perspective-pooling builds on the increased growth in diverse self-knowledge for people high in state variability (Wundrack et al., 2018).

Flexibility

This diverse self-knowledge will be a stepping stone for clients to view themselves as containers of different selves and develop a more flexible sense of self with realism. That means incorporating their context and what they want and can do about it, how they want to conduct themselves given the reality of their current circumstances.

In Hulbert-Williams et al.’s (2016)study, their client had lots of ‘I am’ stories that helped her make sense of the world but were not always helpful in terms of functioning effectively. Thus, we will work with clients on considering their many different selves, so they can see that they are the container for all of these ‘selves and, thus, behave more flexibly.

Flexibility is fundamental to our client’s success in dealing with the challenges they are facing. Greater psychological flexibility has been associated with a higher quality of life, emotional well-being, community participation, and resilience (Butler & Ciarrochi, 2007, as cited in Han et al.,2021). In the case of family caregivers, studies found psychological flexibility as a significant buffer against psychological distress (i.e., depressive symptoms, anxiety, and stress) (Jansen et al., 2017, as cited in Han et al., 2021)

It’s interesting to note that, according to Hulbert-Williams et al. (2016, P. 12):

 “In the work setting, psychological flexibility is predictive of job performance (Bond & Flaxman, 2006), attitudes toward learning new skills (ibid.), job satisfaction (Donaldso-Feilder & Bond, 2004), and lower absenteeism (Bond, Flaxman, & Bunce, 2008). In intervention studies, ACT has successfully improved acceptance and engagement with a work redesign intervention (Bond et al., 2008), and has reduced both workplace stress (Flaxman & Bond, 2010b; 2010a) and burnout (Vilardaga et al., 2011).”

Action

For this process to work and impact our clients’ lives, they will need to act, take small steps to build a different relationship with their ‘self’, and build muscle to adjust and incorporate diverse perspectives. As Hulbert-Williams et al. (2016) share, by broadening their client’s horizons, by contacting the parts of her ‘self’ that had been neglected, and by taking small steps of committed action, a new person emerged.

The goal is to partner with clients, so they take action and build a different relationship with themselves by acknowledging distressing thoughts and feelings, by acknowledging their anchors and looking at them from different perspectives, by acknowledging and embracing the diversity of their inner selves. And thus, incorporating them in the roles they perform in a more balanced and satisfactory way, therefore living a more fulfilling and meaningful life.

It will be such an enriching experience to share with my clients their journeys of self-discovery and witness how they find within themselves what they need to transition through their different roles and evolve and grow.

Learn How to Create Your Own Coaching Model

Your Coaching Model reflects your values, philosophies and beliefs and must communicate who you will coach and the problems you will solve.

Read more about creating your own coaching model

References

Eyzaguirre, Valeria Mariel. Sobrecarga del cuidador y sentido de coherencia en padres de adolescentes con cáncer (Caregiveroverload and sense of coherence inparentsofadolescentswithcancer).http://hdl.handle.net/20.500.12404/12871.

Han, Areum & Yuen, Hon & Jenkins, Jeremy Acceptance and commitment therapy for family caregivers: A systematic review and meta-analysis. Journal of Health Psychology. 26. 82-102. 10.1177/1359105320941217.

Hulbert-Williams, Lee & Hochard, Kevin & Hulbert-Williams, Nick & Archer, Rob & Nicholls, Wendy & Wilson, Kelly Contextual behavioral coaching: An evidence-based model for supporting behavior change. International Coaching Psychology Review. 11. 30-42.

Hung Kit Fok, Chin Ming Hui, Michael Harris Bond, David Matsumoto, Seung Hee Yoo. Integrating personality, context, relationship, and emotion type into a model of display rules. 

PsycInfo Database Record (2020). Abstract of Dymond, S., & Roche, B. (Eds.). Advances in relational frame theory: Research and application. New Harbinger Publications, Inc.. https://psycnet.apa.org/record/2013-07435-000

Roberts, B. W.& Donahue, E. M. One personality, multiple selves: Integrating personality and social roles. Journal of Personality, 62(2), 199–218. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1467-6494.1994.tb00291.x

Skews, Rachael & Palmer, Stephen. Acceptance and commitment coaching: making the case for an ACT-based approach to coaching, published in https://www.researchgate.net/profile/Stephen-Palmer-6/publication/316455754_Acceptance_and_commitment_coaching_Making_the_case_for_an_ACT-based_approach_to_coaching

Wundrack, Richard & Prager, Julia & Asselmann, Eva & O’Connell, Garret & Specht, Jule. Does Intraindividual Variability of Personality States Improve Perspective-Taking? An Ecological Approach Integrating Personality and Social Cognition. Journal of Intelligence. 6. 50. 10.3390/jintelligence6040050.

Original source: https://coachcampus.com/coach-portfolios/coaching-models/flexibility/

[ineloqueent]

Starstruck: Part 11

Brian May x Fem!Reader

This is Part 11 of a multi-part fic. Click the links below to read the Masterpost, the previous part, or the next part of the fic :)

Masterpost / Part 10 / Part 12

Summary: When studying at Imperial College in the 1970s, your path is crossed by a beautiful boy as much in love with the stars as you.  

Warnings: swearing

Historical Inaccuracies:

Not sure that Veronica went with Queen to Ridge Farm at all, but hey— creative licence!

Word Count: 6.9k

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

You woke up late, and this you knew because from downstairs you could distinctly hear arguing, and it was rare that any of the others deigned to get up before eight in the morning, which was when you normally awoke.

You wandered into the kitchen with your hair still quite mussed by sleep, but in the very least you were dressed. Unlike Queen, who were waltzing about in pyjamas and dressing gowns.

“It’s just a bit weird, Roger,” Deacy was saying.

“Weird? It’s just a song, John!”

“Just a song?” said Freddie. “Then tell me, darling, why it is you’re pushing so hard for it to be on the album, hm?”

“With my hand on your grease gun?” Brian recited from a piece of paper, glasses on his nose. “Really, Rog?”

“It’s a metaphor, Brian!”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh, good morning, Y/N,” Freddie addressed you.

“Hello everyone,” you said, amusement still on your lips.

“Morning,” Deacy responded, while Roger grumbled something.

Brian smilingly handed you a cup of coffee. “Back me up on this, would you?”

You leaned against the countertop, next to Brian, whose posture was so positively awful that you could almost look directly into his eyes. But you avoided that carefully; his pyjama top was only half-buttoned, and the pale skin of his chest was visible beneath the open collar. It reminded you of how he had looked on the album cover of Sheer Heart Attack, how your eyes had fallen to where he lay with wide eyes, parted lips, his shirt unbuttoned. Borderline indecent. And outrageously attractive. As he was now.

You cleared your throat. “I don’t know, what’re we talking about, exactly?”

John rolled his eyes. “Roger’s car song.”

“Car song?”

“Mm,” Brian sipped his coffee.

“You’re just jealous that I’ve written something on guitar that’s better than anything you’ve written,” Roger sniffed.

Brian looked affronted. “I’m the guitarist, I have a right to be offended, and no, it’s not better than mine.”

Roger scoffed. “You’ve written exactly two songs—”

“Two and a half,” said Brian pointedly.

“Oh, sorry, two and a half. And exactly one of them is written with an electric guitar piece, and the other one is on... what?” Roger searched for the word. “A ukulele?! This is rock ‘n’ roll, Brian, not bloody folk music!”

“Folk music?!”

“You play the ukulele?” you interjected.

Brian glanced at you. “Not very well, but—”

“He’s going to learn to play the harp too,” Freddie added. “For my new song.”

With a smile in your direction, Deacy said, “You know he plays the piano as well, Y/N?”

You blinked at Brian. Talk about multi-talented.

“Concentrate for a fucking second!” Roger exclaimed, and everyone jumped. “No, don’t concentrate on Y/N, Brian.”

Brian sputtered, throwing up his arms, “I wasn’t—”

“It’s not going on the album, Roger,” Deacy shrugged. He seemed not to dislike the concept of the song, so much as to be getting back at Roger for discrediting his own song writing abilities.  

Roger turned to Freddie, pleadingly.

Freddie sighed.

Roger’s face was at this point red with frustration, and he marched from the room.

“Roggie, we can discuss this,” Freddie appealed.

“Can’t,” Roger called back.

Freddie took one look at you all, and you followed him as he hurried after Roger.

You heard a slam! and then a clicking noise, and you frowned, puzzled. Roger had disappeared.

“Roger?”

“Roger, stop this. Where are you?”

“Rog?”

“Go away,” came Roger’s muffled voice.

Deacy raised his eyebrows, catching on before the rest of you. “This trick is getting old, Roger.”

“What the hell—” Brian yanked the handle of a cupboard door. “Oh, you can’t be serious.”

Roger had locked himself inside the cupboard. Just like he’d locked you and Brian in the kitchen.

“Oh, I’m serious,” said Roger. “Put the bloody song on the album, or you’ve lost your drummer.”

“To a cupboard?” inquired John politely.

“...Yes.”

Freddie barked a laugh. “You’ll starve, Roger.”

“Uh,” you began, “sorry to be a downer, but uh, he won’t starve.”

“What?”

“That’s the pantry,” you muttered.

“Why the hell does it have a lock?!” cried Freddie.

“I don’t know! I didn’t design this place!”

Brian placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, and you looked up at him in surprise. “Don’t you have a key?” he said.

Your mouth fell open. “God, I’m actually stupid.”

“No, you’re noooot,” sang Roger from inside the cupboard. “I’ve got it.”

Freddie mumbled something along the lines of, “Well. Fuck.”

“Anyone feel like picking a lock?” Deacy ran a hand through his hair, rested his hands on his hips.

“Or you could just put the fucking song on the fucking album,” said Roger.

“Are we sure you’re the one with the temper, Bri?” you asked.

There was silence. Freddie nodded at you solemnly, eyes wide.

Brian sighed, his hand slipping from your shoulder. Instinctively, you reached up to touch the spot where his fingers had previously curled, soft and warm.

“No one’s winning any points here, Freddie,” Deacy said diplomatically, after at least a full minute of silence. “Let’s just put the song on the album. I’m sure it’ll be fine. It is just a song, after all, you know.”

“Listen to the wise man,” Roger intoned.

“That’s a good line…” Brian mused. Then he sighed again. “You’re so full of yourself, Roger.”

“So that's a yes, then?”

“Fine. But you owe me a siding.”

“A siding?” you asked.

“Next time there’s an argument,” John explained, “which will quite frankly be very soon, Roger has to take Brian’s side.”

“Ah,” you nodded in understanding.

“Freddie?” Roger piped. “I’m not coming out of here until you say yes too.”

Freddie tapped his foot against the floorboards. “Fine, but only because I’m nice, you bastard.”

“That’s actually rather contradictory, Freddie,” said Deacy.

“No, it’s not. I’m the nice one, he’s the bastard.”

“Okay Fred,” Brian replied, unconvinced.

Just then, Heather entered the hall, dressed in a kimono-esque garment you were sure was Roger’s. “Morning, all. Has anyone seen Roger?”

“Ha!” said Freddie. “No, darling. Not for the past few minutes. But god, we’ve heard him. Makes a frightful racket when he doesn’t get what he wants.”

Heather smirked. “Oh I know.”

Deacy laughed.

Freddie shook the cupboard handle, “Roger, are you coming out of the closet or what?”

“Ha ha, very funny.” There was a rattling, and then the cupboard door swung open. Roger stood there, eating a strawberry licorice rod.

You crossed your arms. “You can’t possibly have got hungry in so little time.”

“Peckish,” Roger shrugged. “Good morning, beautiful,” he swept over to Heather and they embraced.

“Ick,” Freddie waved a hand. “Get a room.

“They have a room,” Deacy pointed out.

Brian muttered, “Well, get back to it.”

You laughed.

“Mm, well, anyway, I came to ask why the hell you left our room in such a mess,” Heather jabbed Roger’s chest with a finger.

“You sure that’s not your mess, sweetheart?”

You looked at Heather. “You just came here to kiss your boyfriend, didn’t you?”

“Maybe… Yeah. Sorry Rog. But I also came to ask Y/N if she’s coming with us..?”

“Where’s who going?”

“To town. Veronica and Mary and I, I mean. When we get back, we’re going down the hill to play tennis. We saw your dad earlier, and he showed us where to find the rackets and everything.”

You paused, considering.

“Decisions, decisions,” said Brian.

“Shush, I’m thinking,” you poked his side, and he yelped, leaping away. You raised your eyebrows at him.

“Oh, he’s ticklish,” said Freddie helpfully.

A devilish smile formed on your lips, to which Brian shook his head slowly.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

He flushed in response.

“Y/N? Coming or not?”

“Huh? Oh. Yeah, about that...”

“Or you can come with us to the studio,” suggested Brian.

You didn’t really want to go into town, and Brian had just given you the perfect excuse not to.

Freddie seemed to register your disinclination as well because he said, “Never mind, Y/N. You took too long to decide, so now you don’t get a choice. I need you in the studio with us.”

Heather seemed to accept this explanation, though really, as your closest friend, she should have known you wouldn’t have wanted to go into town. Her lack of friend-intuition likely stemmed from the fact that the two of you had been spending less and less time together as of late. You were hanging out more with Queen, and you supposed, though Heather and Roger were often together, that you were beginning to be closer with the members of Queen than you had ever been with Heather. The thought struck in you a great feeling of melancholy, and for a moment you thought of changing your mind about going with her and Ronnie and Mary, so as to spend more time with her, your best friend.

But Heather wasn’t struck by any such notions of pensive sadness. “Oh well, it appears you’re needed here,” she said. “Want anything from the shops?”

“Wouldn’t mind a chocolate bar,” you smiled.

“Done,” Heather winked at you. “Bye, Rog,” she kissed his cheek and departed.

“Now,” Freddie clasped his hands, “let’s get to the studio.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

“Right,” you said decisively. “Try ‘People of the Earth’ again.”

It was four weeks since Roger had locked himself in a cupboard to make the others accept his car song onto the new album, and every day since that had been spent hard at work, with only the evenings devoted to relaxing.

Every morning, you would rise at seven and be in the studio half an hour later, where Roadie-John and Crystal would help you to set up, in time for the others to come and tune instruments and arrange various things at about eight o’clock. The days were then spent writing and recording demos, though mostly writing, as tapes had to be done on handheld recorders, since the studio was not yet fully furnished— your dad still had to install a soundbooth and proper recording equipment.  

In the late afternoons and evenings, there were fiercely competitive tennis matches, particularly between your dad and Deacy, who got along as well as ever. There were trips to the pub where your mum greeted you all with discounted pints, there were games of croquet and pool, and everywhere you looked, there was Brian, with some camera or another, from Polaroid to Pentax to an Iloca Rapid stereo camera.

From candids to posed shots, he took pictures of you all, all the time, at every spare moment, though Brian himself always avoided being in front of the camera. You got the feeling that he was, strangely, camera shy. You found it very sweet, though, and so it became a challenge for you to try to take pictures of Brian. He countered this with a challenge of his own, and soon the two of you were fighting a photography war. The result was far too many rolls of film peppered with blurry and out-of-focus images, but Brian didn’t seem to mind that his film was being used on this. He was always smiling when he was taking pictures.

It had yet to be warm enough for you all to take advantage of the swimming pool, but as the days got longer and the sun rose higher in the sky, the indoors would grow stuffy, and the sparkling blue-green water would become a sight for sore eyes.

Freddie now had three songs completely finished, with at least another two in the works. One in particular was quite dear to him, and enthralled you all; it was segments of several different songs woven together in an incredibly artistic manner, and for every day that passed, Freddie added even more segments. He went to such lengths to ensure the song’s perfection that one day, he even declared your dad’s piano unsuitable, instead having a piano of his own, a white grand piano, moved in. It had been an absolute ordeal to get that piano into Ridge Farm’s little studio, and you were sure you that even if you lived to be a hundred and four, you would never forget the shouting and the swearing and the sweating and the laughing and plotting entailed by the piano-shifting day.

Brian, on the other hand, still had only managed to write two songs, and bits and pieces of a third; you teased him that he was becoming more the band’s photographer than their guitarist. Roger continued to work on his car song, but poor Deacy had yet to write anything at all.

Today was Friday, and the five of you had been at work for hours, stopping briefly for a lunch of sandwiches in the garden. You were acting both manager and producer for Queen, and currently, the four of you were trying to help Brian to develop his half-song. It wasn’t going particularly well.

The midafternoon was warm, and the touch of sunlight upon your skin was making you drowsy, and making the others overly finicky and short-tempered. Especially Brian, to whom the pressure was presently applied.

He was running his fingers through his curls every few minutes, and his posture seemed worse than usual when he paced the room, unable to stand still for the frustration of not being able to bring into existence the whisper of a song that danced around his head.

“Vocals, I assume?” said Freddie.

“Yep. Let’s do that.” Your eyes were on Brian, who had kicked off his shoes and was chewing his bottom lip. He didn’t really look up to yet another failed attempt at harmonies and melodies, in fact, he didn’t look up to anything. But you were on a schedule and had to power on, at least for a little while longer.

“Count us in, Y/N?” Roger asked, and you nodded.

“One, two, three, four…”

Oh, oh, people of the earth!

"Listen to the warning," the prophet he said

For soon the cold of night will fall

Summoned by your own hand

The harmonies rose and the four of them made it successfully through a verse, sung as it would have been live, meaning that John was contributing too, though he declined to do so for any of the actual recordings that would happen in the future. A whole verse was quite a feat, one that hadn’t been achieved for the past hour, and you motioned for them to continue through the next verse.

Ah, ah, children of the land

Quicken to the new life, take my hand—

On this line, Brian’s eyes flicked to yours, and in them you saw desperation. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his mouth twisted in a grimace. Take my hand seemed a cry for help.

“You know what,” you interrupted quickly, “I think that’s enough for today.”

“Thank goodness,” said Deacy at once, stepping away from the practice microphone he had been sharing with the others. “I’ll go out on a limb here and say a swim is a good idea..?” He looked around, and the others nodded with defeated temperaments.

Brian in particular concerned you; he was basically swaying at this point. Roger seemed to notice this too.

“Brian, mate, have you had enough water to drink today?”

Brian shook his head, dazedly.

Freddie frowned.“No, I think not.”

“Here, have mine.” You retrieved your water bottle and brought it to Brian. He clutched it but said nothing, and worry roiled in your stomach. Deacy took his arm and guided him over to sit down on the piano bench.

You gathered around Brian, and Roger nudged his hand. “Go on then, have some water.”

Bri unscrewed the cap of your water bottle in a mechanical manner, raising the bottle to his lips and drinking slowly.

“Far too hot in here,” you muttered. “Really must get dad to fix the blinds and the fans.”

“‘S alright,” Brian managed, but he still seemed rather faint, his skin pale and clammy in appearance. The others looked worried, and you wondered if they’d been faced with a similar situation before.

“Come on, darling,” said Freddie. “Let’s get you outside, some fresh air, yes?”

Brian nodded, and together, you and Freddie helped him up.

Outside, you locked the door to the studio while the others deposited Brian on a conveniently-placed bench.

For a few minutes, you and Deacy sat with Brian in silence while he sipped his water and kept out of the sun, and Freddie and Roger had a smoke.

Then Brian finally spoke.

“Thank you,” he said, handing back your empty water bottle. “Sorry I drank all of it.” He winced, and you hoped that it wasn’t because he still wasn’t feeling well.

“Oh, no, it’s fine. Plenty more water where it came from. And I’m sure you’ll need more. Don’t want a second incident of overheating.”

He chuckled softly, and you knew then that he was on the mend.

“Shall we join the others and go for a swim?” John suggested again as the five of you walked back toward the main house. Amongst you, it was quickly agreed to meet by the pool in ten minutes, and so all went their separate ways to get changed.

Eight minutes later, you had swapped cotton for nylon, coated your skin in sunscreen, and slung a towel over one arm. The pool was down the hill, by the tennis courts, and as you followed the path, the others came into view.

Mary and Heather were lying in a pair of yellowed sun chairs, chatting, while Ronnie and Deacy appeared to be having a water fight in the pool, teamed up against Roadie-John and Crystal. The Tetzlaff-Deacon forces were winning, pushing Crystal and Roadie-John farther and farther to their side of the pool, but then again, the roadies seemed to be going easy on their enemies, seeing as Ronnie was nearly nine months pregnant. Roger was sitting on the edge of the pool with his legs in the water, his face turned to the sun and his sunglasses ever-present on his face.

Freddie came down the path behind you, and when he made it to the pool, he threw down his towel and dove straight in.

When Freddie bobbed back up to the surface, Roger splashed him, as payback for having been splashed. Freddie retaliated by pulling Roger into the water by his legs, to which the latter yelped.

“It’s COLD!” he shrieked, and Freddie laughed.

Spotting you, Freddie motioned toward the water. “Come in, darling, it’s lovely.”

“I think I believe Roger more than you, Freddie,” you narrowed your eyes.

“Oh,” said Heather, “don’t. He’s a bit of a wimp, you know.”

“Hey!” cried Roger indignantly. “Then why haven’t you got in, Heather?”

Heather glanced over at Mary, who shrugged. “Your funeral,” she said.

Heather tugged off her coverup, and before Mary could object, grabbed her arm and leapt into the pool, Mary screaming before the two of them plunged under.

“Oi!” said Deacy as they splashed himself and Ronnie, and Heather giggled while Mary shook her drenched head of hair.

“Oh come on, Mary,” Crystal splashed her. She glared, then splashed him back, laughing.

“Y/N, get in!” Ronnie called to you.

You’d put down your towel on a sunchair, and now stood eyeing the pool warily.

It was a large pool, both long and wide, which meant there was more than enough room for all the people already in it. But it wasn’t the pool’s occupancy that deterred you, so much as its temperature. And the fact that Brian was nowhere to be seen.

“I don’t know, Ronnie…”

“The more the merrier!” said Roadie-John.

Roger shoved him. “Don’t say that. It sounds creepy when you say it like that.”

Roadie-John looked at Crystal, who nodded. “Yeah, mate…”

“Sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s fine, it’s not that, it’s just…”

“Spit it out, lovey,” Freddie said, and now everyone was looking up at you.

Add self-consciousness to the list, check. You wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Has anyone seen Brian? He did almost faint, you know.”

“Oh, she’s worried about him, poor love,” cooed Mary. The others made similar noises, Roger contributing kissy faces.

You gave them a murderous look. “Seriously! Are we sure he didn’t just go inside and pass out somewhere?”

“No… We can’t be sure, if we haven’t seen him…” Freddie pursed his lips.

“So you haven’t seen him?” Your hands were growing sweaty, and you wrung them.

“No,” said Deacy, “not until now.” A sly smile spread across his face.

You frowned. “What—”

“Hello, love.”

Arms wrapped around your waist and soft breath tickled your skin, but you had no time to register any of this, because suddenly, you were flying through the air toward the swimming pool, and the water was rushing up to meet you, and you were squealing.

You went under, and the water really was cold, but not like ice, just enough to shock the last of the drowsiness from your being. It was quite nice, actually, to feel awake for once.

In a rush of bubbles, you returned to the surface and whipped your head about wildly, searching for Brian as the others laughed. It turned out that he was right behind you, again, smiling brilliantly and smoothing down his curls.

“Oh, you bastard!” you cried, giving him a hefty shove, and he laughed, splashing you. You shook your head, spraying him with water. “And to think I was worried about you, Bri.”

“Awh, worried about me? What’d I do this time?” He tilted his head to one side, gazing at you expectantly, all doe-eyes and soft lips. With a jolt, you realised that you wanted to pull him to you and kiss the gentle curve of his mouth till he melted against you.

You blushed.

Freddie gasped delightedly. “Oh look, she’s blushing!”

“Awww,” Roger chimed, and you considered drowning them both.

You rolled your eyes in their direction, regaining your composure before looking at Brian again.

Oh, how hard it would be to look at Brian now, when such thoughts had stumbled through your head. But you forced yourself to do it, because you had a façade to uphold.

“You were feeling a bit faint, earlier?” you said casually. “I know your type. Slightly weak constitutions, I’m afraid.” You paused to examine your nails, frowning at invisible specks of dirt.

“You know my type?” Brian crossed his arms over his slim frame, narrowing his eyes. But a smile played on his lips. “And is it yours?”

Your eyes widened, you dropped your hand.

Roger spoke your thoughts, “Bit forward, Brian?”

Brian shrugged his angular shoulders, nonchalant. “Only a question. She must have experience, if she’s asserting she knows my type.”

You crossed your arms too. “Oh yeah I have,” you drawled. “I’ve got loads of experience.”

Deacy practically snorted with laughter. Brian raised his eyebrows at you.

You stepped toward him, squaring your shoulders and raising your chin. “Does that bother you, Brian?”

The sun cast shadows across his face, and his hair fluttered in the breeze. The cool air whispered across your skin, but you didn’t shiver, you weren’t cold. You felt hot all over, even as you stood motionless beneath his hazel eyes.

His lips parted, and when he leaned down, his voice was low, a hum.

“Should it?”

A piece of your precious façade crumbled.

The others couldn’t possibly have heard what he’d said, and he’d clearly meant for it to be this way. But it had brought you back to reality. The reality which was that had you pulled him down to kiss you, he would have pushed you away.

Oh, how wrong can you be. Desire had very briefly blinded you to his lack of the same for you. You wouldn’t let it happen again.

“No,” you said, “but this should!” You splashed him and he gave a cry, and a small water fight ensued.

This then led to Roger’s organisation of a water war, where he insisted upon teams of girls vs. boys, until Freddie pointed out that the uneven numbers would place Roger on the girls team, “Seeing as you look the part, Rog”. Roger quickly changed his mind, though not before whacking Freddie. The teams ended up with you, Roadie-John, Freddie, and Mary pitted against Brian, Roger, Crystal, and Heather, while Deacy settled Veronica against the cushions of a sunchair.

There was no way to count points, so the war, which was really more of a battle, finished after about half an hour, when more than one person had complained of tired arms, and the rest of you had realised that it was impossible for either side to win.

Half of the party stayed swimming, but you, Mary, Freddie, and Brian were cold, and elected to join Ronnie and Deacy on the deck.

Unfortunately, the sun was more harsh than some people— i.e. Brian— had anticipated, and so, after a good long drowse on the deck, some people were starting to look a bit pink. Actually, a bit pink was putting it nicely.

He was lying on his stomach with his face turned away from the light, curls falling partially over his eyes. His skin did not have a tendency to freckle, but his cheeks were rosy and the little lines at the corners of his eyes were deepened by the sun, giving him the glow of someone who smiled often, even when his lips were slack and soft and the expression could not have been farther from his serene features.

Having laid your towel down beside Brian’s, you now reached over to tap his hand.

“Bri?”

“Mmm?” He barely stirred, but he had not been asleep, only dozing, his exhale gentle and his shoulders relaxed.

“Did you put sunscreen on?”

His eyes fluttered open. “Oh shit,” he murmured, and he couldn’t have said anything more prettily. “Am I burnt to a crisp?” he asked languidly, the corner of his mouth turning up.

In a breath, your eyes skimmed over his bare waist, back, shoulders, returned to his face and his half-smile.

“Very nearly,” you said. He shifted an arm experimentally, then winced. Pressing his face into his towel, he let out a groan.

“Whatever is the matter, Brian?” Freddie said over a cup of tea, tipping his sunglasses down his nose.

“Burmpt,” he mumbled into the towel.

“He’s got a sunburn,” you translated for Freddie.

“Ah.”

Deacy, hearing your conversation, leaned over to his wife. “My dear, didn’t you say you brought aloe vera, just in case?”

Veronica blinked sleepily before registering what John had said. “Oh, yes, I did. It’s in the downstairs bathroom, in my toiletries bag. You’re welcome to it, Brian.”

Brian raised his head again, squinting at Ronnie.

“Darling,” Freddie interjected, “he doesn’t know what your bag looks like.”

Veronica gestured to you, “Y/N, you know the one, the cream-tone bag with the silver edging.” You nodded, and she turned back to Brian. “Just take Y/N with you, she’ll show you.”

Brian sighed, then rolled onto his side and sat up gingerly.

He held a hand up over his eyes. “Feel like a stroll, Y/N?”

You stood, stretching your legs. “I would be a terrible friend if I said no.”

“And you’re not, you’re a wonderful friend, so you’re coming with me..?”

“You don’t have to ask. Come on.”

You picked up your towel and slung it over your shoulders, starting back up the path.

Brian was right behind you, taking careful steps to avoid particularly sharp pieces of gravel because he had once again neglected to wear shoes. It was never proper shoes with Brian; he alternated between clogs and socks and being barefoot entirely. With this, and his delicate countenance and curling hair and faraway thoughts, he was afforded the air of some woodland nymph or fairy.

He was beautiful.

You were very well aware.

Inside the house, you quickly found Veronica’s bag and the aloe vera.

Entering the living room where Brian was waiting, you triumphantly tossed the bottle into the air and caught it again. “Ta-daa,” you presented your find to Bri.

“Oh, brilliant!” he said as you passed him the bottle. “It is actually beginning to hurt quite a bit.” He touched his shoulder absently, then grimaced.

“Now that,” you said, “does not look like fun.” You made a face, then went into the adjoining kitchen to get a glass of water.

“How come I’m the only one who got burnt?” you heard him ask petulantly.

“Because, Brian dear, the rest of us put on sunscreen. And you are on the pale side of things.”

“Oh hush,” he said with exasperation, “you’re starting to sound like Freddie.”

You laughed, but you had also been in the process of drinking your water, so it came out like more of a cough.

“You alright in there?” Brian called.

“Yeah, fine,” you said, wiping the water from your chin. “I just can’t drink water like a normal person.”

“At least you don’t forget to, then nearly faint into your bandmates’ arms.”

“True,” you conceded, and he scoffed.

“Make me feel better, why don’t you?”

“What about you? You okay in there with that aloe vera?”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t taste very nice.”

You rushed into the living room, “Brian! You’re not supposed to drink it!”

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he said, laughter in his eyes at the look on your face. “Christ, love, you’re like a deer in headlights.”

Your stomach tumbled— there it was again, the endearment.

Never darling or dearie, like Freddie; never sweetheart like Rog; never dear, as Deacy occasionally dubbed you. Always lovely, or love, as though he had such to give to you. And when Brian loved, it was fierce. You could see that from how the passing or his aunt haunted him, and how he still missed the cat he’d had in his childhood. His love for those around him was wholly consuming. The disapproval of his father picked him apart from the inside, he defended his friends with valour and gall when not physically pulling them from a fight, and it was plain that he would continue to do so for as long as he lived. But whomever he loved and however it was he loved, he did not love you.

And would never, for as long as he lived.

“Y/N?”

“Sorry, lost my train of thought,” you shook your head.

His brow furrowed. “Sure you’re alright?”

“Doin’ alriiiiight,” you sang.

Brian gave a laborious sigh, rubbing aloe vera over his shoulders. “You really need to spend less time with Freddie,” he said.

“What?” you leaned against the doorframe. “And spend more time with you instead?” You couldn’t help yourself, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying it. But Brian took it in stride.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” he said with a smile, and you were glad you were leaning against something; your legs couldn’t have carried you at that moment, had your life depended on it.

“Y/N,” Brain began hesitantly, “there’s something I have to tell you—”

“Knock knock!” came a shout from the front door, and you and Bri turned toward the sound. Veronica waddled into sight a few seconds later, and you went into the kitchen to greet her. “Found the aloe vera?” she asked.

“Yes,” Brian nodded. “Thank you.”

“No trouble,” Ronnie eased herself into a chair by the dining table. “And I’m sure Y/N could—” She gasped.

“Ronnie?” you asked, as Brian said, “Are you okay?”

Veronica raised her eyes slowly. “I think my water just broke.”

“Uh,” you began. “And what day is it..?”

“It’s the eighteenth of July,” said Brian.

“That’s… early,” you frowned, rooted to the spot because you were quite clueless as to what to do.

Then you looked at Veronica. Her eyes were wide and her hands were shaking, and she’d gone quite pale. “That’s why I’m panicking!” she cried.

“Right,” Brian sprang into action, sweeping over to Ronnie and helping her up. “Let’s get you cleaned up and ready to go, Veronica. The contractions won’t be long now. Y/N, would you run down and fetch John— and Roger, since he’s the only one with a car— please?”

He looked at you almost pleadingly, as though you would ever have said no.

“Yes, of course,” you breathed, and hurtled out the door.

You rounded the corner to the swimming pool and tennis courts almost before you could notice how far you’d run. You’d never run this fast in your life, and after today, you did not intend to do it ever again.

“DEACY!” you shouted, and he got up from his sunchair immediately. Everyone else looked equally alarmed, no doubt with the same questions in mind that John voiced.

“What is it? What’s happened? Are you alright—”

“Yes, yes, god, I’m fine. But Veronica’s water just broke.”

“Oh fuck,” Deacy swore, throwing on a t-shirt and losing his sunglasses in the process. Freddie picked them up swiftly, put them back on John’s head.

“Roger,” you called, “we’re gonna need you to drive.”

“I’m coming,” he said, pulling on his shoes whilst hopping from foot to foot. “Deacs,” he clapped his friend on the back because Deacy had gone completely still. “Let’s go.”

Deacy nodded, swallowed. “I’m going to be a father,” he croaked.

“Yes yes,” said Freddie, “and a wonderful one at that. Now, away with you, darlings.” Freddie gave them both a push toward the path. “And what do you need from us, Y/N?”

“Stay here and make sure you’re by a telephone,” you said. “I’ve got to go with them— to give directions. And please tell my parents where we’ve gone, if you see them!”

“Will do,” Freddie was all business. He called to Deacy, “Good luck, dearie!” and the others echoed similar sentiments from about the pool.

You resolved that one more run wouldn’t hurt too much, and followed Deacy and Roger’s jog toward the main house.

Inside, Brian was waiting with Veronica, a glass of water and a packed bag of her things sitting beside her as he rubbed her shoulders. Brian himself had put on a button-up shirt, but had once more left his top two buttons undone. The sight of him undid you a little bit.

“See, John’s here now,” he said soothingly, and Ronnie gave a little cry, arms outstretched for her husband. “Her contractions have started,” Brian explained.

Deacy ran to his wife and hugged her gently. “Shhh, my dear, I’m here now. And Roger’s got the car keys, so we can go.”

Roger held up his keys triumphantly, then rushed back outside to start the Alfa Romeo. In response, Veronica only nodded mutely, burying her face in Deacy’s shoulder and clinging tightly to fistfuls of his t-shirt.

“Come on, let’s get you up,” Brian murmured, and he and Deacy helped Ronnie to walk toward the door. “Y/N, would you take that bag, please?”

“Yep,” you grabbed the bag and followed the others outside, shutting the door behind you.

Deacy and Brian aided Veronica into the backseat of Roger’s car, and you hopped into the passenger’s seat as Roger shifted gears and pulled out of the driveway.

Roger drove toward town, and made it successfully through in less than thirty minutes, by the combined efforts of speeding and ignoring traffic laws entirely.

“Now, help me out, Y/N,” he said, as a crossroads was reached, and you began to give directions.

In total, the drive took about forty minutes, and with Veronica’s contractions getting closer together, it was a relief to everyone involved when you told Roger to pull into the car park of the Royal Surrey County Hospital.

Out of the car went Ronnie, and you all hurried into the hospital building.

Deacy was swept away with his wife, leaving you and Roger and Brian to stand around aimlessly in the lobby.

The rush of urgency that had pounded through you in getting to the hospital had diminished and slowed now that you knew that your friend and her future child were in good hands, accompanied by the loving husband and father to-be. Deacy may have gone stock still when you’d first arrived by the poolside with the news of Veronica’s condition, but like Brian, when faced with the situation itself, he was a natural, and it was easy to see that he was going to be a wonderful father.

“Well, thank god that’s over,” Roger said, falling back into a chair.

Brian scoffed, taking the seat adjacent. “For you, maybe. The poor woman’s still got to go through labour for christ knows how many hours.”

“And once again,” Roger sighed, pushing his hair from his face and adjusting his sunglasses, “I am glad that I am not a woman. I was stressed enough driving up here, as it was.”

“Were you really,” said Brian dryly. “I had no idea.”

“Well then you’re a bit daft, aren’t you?”

“Sarcasm, Rog. That was sarcasm.”

Roger only rolled his eyes in response. “Come sit down, Y/N. We probably won’t be leaving anytime soon.”

You sat down in the chair next to Brian, though not intentionally; it was the last chair in the row.

“Blimey, these chairs are uncomfortable,” you remarked, having tried to straighten your posture and only succeeded in ailing your back more.

“I’ll second that,” said Roger, shifting in his seat. “And we’ve only been here for two minutes.”

But Brian looked at you more closely. “Back giving you trouble?” he asked.

Your back was giving you trouble, because since coming home to Ridge Farm, you’d been playing guitar every day for two hours at a time, outside of the hours Brian still taught you on Thursday nights, and your posture was getting worse and worse for every session you practiced.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

Brian shrugged his shoulders. “I have terrible posture, and given that I’m teaching you, you’ve probably learned from the worst.”

“You two are getting old,” said Roger.

“With every revolution of the Earth we are aging, yes,” Brian replied. “But as are you, Roger, so don’t get too cocky. The universe might just throw an asteroid in your direction, out of spite.”

“No science talk, please,” Roger flapped a hand. “I’m on holiday.”

“I thought Ridge Farm was for working on the album,” you said.

“Work, play, it all sort of blurs together,” Roger sighed. “And anyway, I’m not the one turning twenty-bloody-seven tomorrow, Brian.”

Brian winced.

But this was news to you. “Your birthday is tomorrow?”

“Mmm…”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Why,” Brian smiled, “were you planning on getting me something?”

You folded your arms. “Well, I would have, only there’s no time now.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Y/N,” Roger said, “he doesn’t like a fuss. Silly ol’ Bri always spends so much time fussing over everyone else that it gets to be too much when people fuss over him.”

Brian sank farther into his chair, his cheeks flushing. “If I didn’t tell you to do your washing, Roger, you never would.”

“Yes, mum,” Roger made a face, then picked up a magazine from the side table, obviously not interested in discussing his lack of homelife skills.

Brian blushed again, and smoothed a hand across his cheek.

Why he was embarrassed for being a genuinely caring and thoughtful person, you did not understand. Brian was the one whom everybody turned to for help, no matter the situation, and even when they did not ask for help, he knew instinctively when he was needed, waiting by their side to take them by the hand and make everything all right again.

At least, that was how you saw it.

“That’s not silly, though,” you murmured. “If everyone acted like that, the world would be a far better place.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Brian, “but thank you, Y/N.”

But you weren’t finished. “Back there with Veronica, I had no idea what to do. I just stood there.”

He touched the side of his nose, looking down at his feet. “Nothing special. Just instinct. I could have done more, really.”

You shook your head. “But it is something special, Brian. People don’t think like that.”

Brian looked up. “You do,” he said, unwaveringly.

“Not enough to act on it.”

“I—”

“Just shut up and accept the compliment. You’re a star, Bri.”

Faint amusement flitted across his face, as though he didn’t quite believe you, the corners of his eyes softening. He shook his head almost imperceptibly, glancing down with that adorable half-smile still on his lips.

Then he reached over and took your hand from where it lay on the armrest of the chair.

He dipped his head as you looked up at him, his curls falling over his face and shrouding you both in shadow, creating a little world that existed only for the two of you beneath the fluorescent lights of the hospital lobby.

His slender fingers tightened around yours, and his gaze warmed you, like basking in sunshine by the seaside.

“Thank you,” he murmured, and your heart followed.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

A/N: i slipped into a bit of borhap dialogue there, oops... also, ‘the prophet’s song’ was originally named ‘people of the world’, so that’s why that’s like that :)

taglist: @melting-obelisks​ @stardust-killer-queen​ @hgmercury39​ @topsecretdeacon @joemazzmatazz​ @perriwiinkle​ @brianmays-hair​ @iamsuperconfusedallthetime-dead @im-an-adult-ish​ @ilikebigstucks​​ @doing-albri​ @killer-queen-87​ @n0-self-c0ntro1​ @archaicmusings​

Masterpost / Part 10 / Part 12

[duskdragonxiii]

tell us your toy story 4 thoughts dusky

Ok you made this can of worms and now you have to die in it

Toy story 4 was the worst entry in the series by far, which i guess wasn't too difficult bc the first 3 films had already been great- and that is very very rare that all films in a 3 part series are good and not unnecessary. Its a shame TS4 came along and broke the trend. They should have ended it with 3 where it felt it ended, that was the natural end to the story

It is completely contradictory to woody's previous (and complete) character arc. Woody in this film completely reverts back to his previous state of being a shithead who's jealous of other people getting attention. The previous 3 films were about woody getting past his fear of abandonment and accepting that things change and life goes on. IMMEDIATELY the film opens on woody hating the fact Bonnie gave the Sherrifs badge to another toy and left him in the cupboard. Like ok, sure, maybe woody would still be a little jealous of not being played with, but not the way he behaves about it. if they wanted to address these themes again they would have been so much better making Jessie the focus of the movie since her issues with abandonment are so much worse and so much fresher.

Buzz Lightyear, though he had been gradually dumbed down and was never very intelligent- suddenly has no brains whatsoever. He's not much more than a joke now. Haha Buzz doesn't know what thoughts are isn't that funny. Yea he was a joke in TS3 too im not going to pretend he wasn't, but he and woody's friendship was still a key element in there. In TS4 he does..... Nothing.

Don't even get me started on Bo. Bo hasn't been present since TS2 and even in TS1 her role was absolute minimal. Her purpose really served as nothing but a jealousy pivot plot device in the development of Woody and Buzz' friendship. In TS4 they changed her entirely. She's not the same character anymore. We get it, you wanted a badass heroine in there for the Rep but [gestures to Jessie again] you really missed this. This movie could have had SO MUCH POTENTIAL if you had just REMEMBERED JESSIE IS THERE. We did not need Bo Peep and her weird "lets give woody a girlfriend" plot. Something something she helped woody find the next part of his life- except for the fact the ENTIRITY of this story is unnecessary.

The very focus of this whole saga is how best friends should stick together no-matter what. You've got a friend in me. Too bad that's out the window. Woody is fine leaving the gang to go and wander with Bo- contradicting the entire message of the previous films.

I get what they were trying to go for with forky, but given the context of the film compared to its predecessors its just totally lost. It's really overshadowed by what the hell else is going on- to the point i barely rmember what that plot was about. What was the point of Forky. It was a good premise and opened up all the mysteries of what qualifies as a toy and like how they're made and such and that even the simple things are important to a child but. He doesn't seem to serve as much more than a plot device either- because how the fuck are they gonna make a 4th movie in a finished franchise. In the end thats what forky feels like.

They bigged TS4 up for having very heavy themes never before addressed in an animated film for children and stuff in it and for being heartbreaking- but it did not meet those expectations in the slightest. I bawled my eyes out at TS3. My DAD cried at TS3. But TS4 didn't deliver at all. Those heavy themes they talked about? With the introduction of forky I expected it to be something about identity or something. That potential was there. But.... no it was organ donation. I'm not saying that's not a big thing, but overall it had so fucking little impact at all. They are toys. And in the end it would have no impact on woody anyway, because Bonnie would never find out, because HE FUCKING LEAVES THE GROUP. If you wanted to address organ donation SURELY you should have had him give up a part of himself and STILL be welcomed back lovingly among his friends who would support his decision. Surely Bonnie would be sad that her toy suddenly stopped working, but she would love him anyway. But she never knows because Woody becomes "lost". Bonnie is about 3-4 years old right? She absolutely has object permeance and when she discovered her cowboy is missing she will be so sad. She has other toys, but not that one. Do you people not remember TS3.

Tbh i do not even remember this movie that well. I saw it once in cinemas and was so incredibly disappointed I have never watched it again. So my points may be a little off bc ofc this is just my understanding of this film. But it annoys me so much to the point praise for it makes me want to hit people. They could have done so much better. It was an unneccssary sequel. they would have been better using similar story for a completely unrelated (preferably new) franchise instead of capitalising badly on characters who are already whole and loved. Animation is a hell industry under capitalism and TS4 ended up feeling more like a graphics showcase than a heart filled movie. I could probably go on but jesus christ i. sorry

[chillax-kass-w]

After All | M19

[Reiner Braun/Reader]

Happiness seems impossible for Reiner, but he may get there after all.

Read on AO3

[As a note, the format of this story is as follows: chapters actually titled “Chapter _” are current to the Marley Arc, chapters titled “M_” are Reiner’s memories in succession, and chapters titled “RM_” are the Reader’s memories in succession]

Previous

Sunlight was filtering through the leaves, and he knew. He knew (f/n) would love these trees. She’d scale them up and down and wonder what their story was. She’d write that story; she’d tell it to him. She’d always been curious like that. He could just imagine her smiling at the adventure ahead of them; he could just see the golden sun in her hair, the life in her eyes.

“Hey, Reiner, got any water?”

His imagination halted at Ymir’s question. “Sorry, there’s not a hell of a lot I can do, even if it is a matter of life and death.” Now that she mentioned it, he was parched. He wondered when they’d get back to the Walls for some much needed rest.

“You’re right about that. This whole thing is bullshit.”

“Speaking of which, we’ve been working our asses off. No food, no sleep, no nothing. Ever since those Titans showed up. That was yesterday, right?” He sighed. “Man, we’re lucky the Wall hasn’t been destroyed. Still,” he held his hand to his head, “you’d think that meant they’d give us a break. And don’t even get me started on promotion…”

“Reiner.” He looked to Bertholdt; his eyes were wide.

“What? Aw, come on, I don’t think that’s too much to ask. Do you?” He chuckled. “No, I think we’ve done enough work to deserve consideration. It’s not easy to act in a situation as messed up as this one. As a soldier, I don’t see what’s wrong with being commended and rewarded for that… It’s just nice to be acknowledged.”

“Mister Reiner, what in the hell are you going on about?” Ymir had an incredulous smile on her face. What was that for?

“What do you mean? I’m not saying that I should be immediately promoted to Captain, you know.”

“Uh… That’s not what I mean.”

“Oh, by the way, where did you guys get that cannon from? I owe you one for saving my bacon.” He sighed. “And (f/n) injured her hand saving me too. Needed stitches. I hope she’s alright. She—”

“Hey!” He jumped as Eren stood with a shout, and that’s when he noticed the steam billowing from Eren’s arms. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Is this some kind of joke?”

“What are you mad about, Eren? Was it something I said?” He held up his hands in surrender. He didn’t understand.

“If you want me to kill you, just keep talking!”

“Wait, Eren,” Ymir held out her arm. Why was she missing limbs? “Whatever he’s saying, it’s not normal. Isn’t that right, Bertholdt? If there’s something you know, then quit being quiet and do something about it.” Reiner didn’t understand what she could be implying. He looked to his friend for some sort of answer.

“Reiner…” Bertholdt couldn’t meet his eyes. “Snap out of it. You’re not a soldier. We’re Warriors.”

Warriors.

1,820 years ago, our ancestor Ymir Fritz made a deal with the Devil.

She gained power.

The power of the Titans.

Eldia’s ethnic cleansing lasted for about 1,700 years.

The Great Nation of Marley incited a civil war and brought seven of the nine Titans to its side.

The Great Nation of Marley won.

The Great Nation of Marley is merciful to the Eldians.

I will become a Warrior and live with my mother and father as an Honorary Marleyan.

I will become a Warrior and eradicate the Devils within the Walls.

I will become a Warrior.

I will become a Hero.

Eyes shut, he realized. Everything had come together. When had it come apart?

“Marcel! No!”

“Take the blame and die!”

“Reiner’s dead. If you need Marcel, I’ll be Marcel.”

“This is the only way we can go home.”

His mother was waiting; he wouldn’t let her wait long.

Complications like her ruined everything.

He’d take her down and show her how cruel the world really was to devils like her.

He couldn’t trample a smile like that, even on a devil’s face.

No one would question the aim of a person who selflessly helped others.

Keep telling yourself that.

She was a good person.

Person?

“You deserve it, Reiner.”

Friend?

He’d become a good liar.

“Well, we’ll go see it then.”

Another lie.

“All thanks to you.”

“Who am I really?”

All you cause is pain.

He couldn’t change her future, as much as he wanted to.

“It’s your choice, Rein’.”

“I just want you to be happy.”

Just do what needs to be done, and keep moving forward.

“Wait, why are you in such a rush?! We haven’t even talked this over!”

“Hey, why is Marco being eaten?”

“It’s not your fault, Reiner. Please, please, don’t blame yourself for things out of your control.”

“Please, Reiner.”

He wanted to forget.

He wanted more.

He understood.

“Look at how beautiful it is, Rein’.”

“They remind me of you… respect, chivalry, clarity of thought…”

He couldn’t afford her.

If only he had the power to douse the flames.

If only…

“I fight for you.”  

“I fight for you too.”

“Reiner… I thought I lost you.”

“I thought I lost you, too.”

“Reiner!”

“No!”

No!

No!

Warriors.

We’re Warriors.

“Right… I see…That’s how things are…” He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. All he could do was hold his head in his hands and cry.

It felt as if he’d seen someone else’s memories. He’d always expected to be in this position, but not then, not his own memories. How had he forgotten? Why did he feel so out of control? Had he ever been in control?

“I think I’m starting to see what’s going on here. I thought something was strange. I mean, why would the man who destroyed the Wall risk his life to save Connie? You were taking contradictory actions, but without being aware of it. I don’t know why that happened, but… You were originally a Warrior whose goal was to destroy the Wall, but you pretended to be a soldier for so long, you could no longer tell which was the real you…” Ymir’s words vexed him, or did they pin him? “No, maybe you couldn’t bear the weight of your sins, so, in order to keep your mind in balance, you unconsciously escaped into a fantasy, convincing yourself you were just a soldier who protected the Wall… That caused your mind to split and altered your memories. Judging by Bertholdt’s dumbfounded expression, this isn’t the first time your stories stopped fitting together…” She laughed in the face of his plight. “And not to mention the ultimate irony, you convinced yourself you were worthy of love. Ha! I wonder what (f/n) is thinking right now. She must be—”

“Shut up!” He couldn’t take it, couldn’t face it. “Don’t say her name.” His blood was boiling with regret and determination, duty and the woes of his life.

“My bad, but isn’t it you who shouldn’t be allowed to say her name? Think about it.” She was right, absolutely right. At the thought, he buried his face further into his cold hands. He didn’t want to be seen.

He didn’t want to be there.

“You have to be kidding me. How can you act like a victim?” I don’t know. “What are you even thinking?” I don’t know, Eren.  “Why did you even listen to what we had to say that day? Tell me, Bertholdt. Don’t you remember what I said? I was right in front of you two. I told you about the time my mother was eaten by a Titan, didn’t I? About how she couldn’t escape because a piece of the gate you kicked down landed right on my house. You know about that, right?” Yes. “I told you, didn’t I?” Yes. “What did you think? What… were you thinking that day?”

“Back then… I felt sorry for you.” How could Bertholdt answer? Reiner’s entire being was withering away.

“Oh… I see… You two… You’re not soldiers… You’re not Warriors… You’re just murderers. You massacred people who’d done nothing wrong! You’re mass murderers!”

“I know that!” Reiner couldn’t take it. His sins were agonizing upon his back, in his chest, around his neck. “I don’t need you to tell me!”

“Then stop acting like responsible citizens worried about the state of the world! You two aren’t even human anymore! You’re the ones who turned this world into a living hell! Don’t you see that, you murderers?!”

Yes, he could see. He could see very clearly now.

A l l  y o u  c a u s e  i s  p a i n.

“So what do you want these murderers to do?! Do you want us to repent?! Do you want us to apologize?! Are you really going to preach to a couple of cold blooded murderers about how killing is wrong?! Will that satisfy you?! The Reiner and Bertholdt you know are gone! And if all you want to do is cry about it, then go ahead! Keep crying!”

He wanted to cry. He wanted to go home.

“You’re right.” Eren’s voice was cold. “Who am I? What do I know? Still, all I can do now… is work. Work hard… to make sure that you two die the most excruciating death possible.”

How could Reiner feel fear when he felt so numb?

“You can’t be for real. Eren, I’m begging you, I can’t put my faith in you if you keep talking like some stupid kid.”

“Like what…?”

“I’m saying there’s no way I’m going along with someone worried about petty little things like that.” She paused. “Hey, Reiner. What was that beast?”

His eyes widened. He didn’t want to talk about that.

He didn’t want to talk about anything.

“Beast? What’re you talking about?”

“Huh, you don’t know? Funny, considering that your eyes were beaming like you were kids when you saw it earlier.”

Eren was confused. “What ‘beast’?”

Ymir shook her head. “Just listen. That Beast Titan is the cause of this recent mess. It was what made Titans appear inside the Walls. Maybe it was testing our strength?” How did she know? “You two are trying to get to it, because, if you do, you’ll be able to go back to your home town, right?”

Before he could even piece together a response, Eren shouted again. “Tell me everything you know!”

“Be patient. I’m caught up in circumstances of my own. But listen, Eren. If you think that everything will be settled if you take care of these two… Then, you’re dead wrong.”

“Then who’s our enemy?!”

If only he knew.

“Our enemy? Well, if I had to say, then it’d be—”

“Ymir!” He couldn’t let her tell Eren. He couldn’t let her go. She was the one who’d ruined their mission to begin with. She had to return home with them. If not...  “Do you think this world has a future?” He paused, piecing his argument together. “If you know that much about what’s going on, then think about your plans. Surely you can consider coming over to our side.”

“And trust you? Fat chance! You can’t trust me.”

“No, I can trust you. Your goal is to protect Krista, isn’t it?” Even in his fractured state of mind, he knew how to get to her. That much was obvious, especially with the look in her eyes. “Based on our situation, can you not imagine we can help her in some way? Or… Do you think Eren’s strength is more reliable than ours?”

“What?!”

Despite Eren’s shout, he knew he’d convinced at least some part of Ymir. She was glaring at Eren, presumably sizing him up. “You were thinking of using Eren to escape from here, probably because you thought you had no chance if you let us take you.” She didn’t, but truth was strong in times of negotiation. “To be honest with you, that’s exactly right. And even if you did join us, we wouldn’t be able to guarantee your safety. But, if we’re just talking about Krista… Together, we might be able to make something work. Your tiny little life… or Krista’s future: it’s your choice.”

He was basing this off of his own deduction. Annie had learned much about the aristocratic families, enough to know there was an illegitimate child out in the world. Ymir had told Krista to live for herself, suggesting she had never done so before. And, to top off the theory, Krista had revealed her true name was Historia. That was a noble name if he’d ever heard one.

“Hey, so who’s our real enemy?!”

“Who knows…?” With those words, he knew he’d bought her silence and support.

If only he could buy (f/n)’s safety…

“Reiner,” Bertholdt met him upon his branch, “are we really going to trust Ymir? Her Titan is small, but it was fast. If we don’t restrain her, she could take us out in moments… She… really is the one who ate Marcel, remember?”

How could he forget? That moment was cemented in his mind, his first monumental mistake. He’d let his focus drop for but a moment, and Marcel had saved him. Marcel was devoured by a Titan with long hair and black eyes. There was no second guessing the facts, at least for this memory. There was no disputing the identity of Ymir’s Titan. Her claws and sharp fangs couldn’t belong to any ther than the Jaws.

What if… he’d have been the one devoured that day?

“That’s right. But that’s exactly why her position is clear. She finally became human again. She probably wanted to wander, thinking of only her own survival… That is, until she met Krista. She found someone she valued more than herself, someone so dear that she’d jump into a swarm of Titans for her.”

He’d found that someone too…

“Reiner.” Bertholdt grabbed his shoulder; it brought him back to the moment, but he wouldn’t let it show. “What are you right now?”

No one.

“I’m a Warrior. Don’t worry. I have more reasons for bringing Krista with us than her just being cute. Did you forget? Annie tailed those guys who were loitering around the Training Grounds to see what they were up to. They came to observe Krista from the Church of the Wall, that group that knows what’s inside the Walls. Krista’s an important figure in a Wallist family. In other words, if the Coordinate we’re looking for isn’t Eren, then our mission won’t be over yet. If that happens and we have Krista, it should make the search much easier than it is now.”

“Yeah, let’s put an end to this. Next time we come here, we’ll be able to bring Annie, Krista, and that back to our hometown. And… that will be the last time we ever come here.”

Why did those words hurt so much?

Why couldn’t he use rationale to bring her home?

Why had this happened?

“Yeah, all our duties will be complete.”

His heart wouldn’t be.

But, Bertholdt’s…

He stopped him. “But, Bertholdt, tell Annie how you feel once we get to our hometown.”

If only…

“What?!”

“You stare at her too much! Enough that anyone paying attention would notice.”

“No, I—”

...he could do the same…

“Aw, who cares?” He crossed his arms. “You’re both murderers with little time left, right? Who else but one of us could understand the situation we’re in?”

Could she…?

Then, a sound met his ears. It was so familiar…

He glanced behind him, and there he found something he hadn’t quite factored into their equation.

Green smoke signals…

“Bertholdt.”

“The Survey Corps? Already?”

He readied his triggers. They had to move. “They shouldn’t be able to put together a scouting formation without moving a lot of horses over the Wall. I didn’t think they’d be able to act this quickly… Damn it. Commander Erwin might be with them.” Without a second thought, he shot an anchor above Eren. “We’re up against a tough bunch.”

He should know.

“Huh? What is it, Reiner?! It’s not night yet!”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re heading out now.”

He had to be level-headed. Bertholdt was counting on him. Annie was counting on him. Zeke was counting on him. His mother was counting on him. The entire Nation of Marley was counting on him. What were his emotions in the grand scheme of things? What was he in the grand scheme of things?

A Warrior.

There was a world waiting for his next move. The weight was on his shoulders; he could feel it. And, as he stepped toward Eren, he met his rival head on. “Eren, don’t be stupid and put up a fight.”

Eren laughed; it was forced. “Hey, you don’t need to act so tough. Look at me!” His arms were still healing from being severed, but Reiner knew better than to trust that. “There’s no way I could possibly fight back. Come on...” Reiner knew better.

So why did he let Eren attack him like that?

He was thrown on his back from the force, and Eren was above him, smashing his unformed arms relentlessly into Reiner’s head. He took it for a bit, allowed Eren to tell him to die, even considered it. But then, he found his resolve again. He kicked his former friend to the side, and, when he tried to get back up, he wrapped his forearm around Eren’s throat.

“I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill you! I’ll rip you apart!”

Just one squeeze, and he could kill him.

No, he needed him alive.

As he added pressure to Eren’s throat, he wondered just how it’d come to this. Why did the world have to be so cruel? Why had he been born in this position? Why were the Walls filled with people? Why had she been born inside the Walls?

At this point, he just had to accept it.

So, as Eren’s consciousness faded into nothing, he finally allowed his mind to settle on one thing: getting back home. That’d been his mission all along. That was all he’d ever wanted. Why had he forgotten that? Why hadn’t he stayed the course?

This was all his doing. He had to be the one to fix his mistakes.

As Bertholdt tied Eren to his back, Reiner planned his next course of action. The Survey Corps was too close for comfort, as were the Titans. Bertholdt had to carry Ymir on his back as well, so their mobility was limited. The situation just wasn’t in their favor.

Once Ymir was situated, Reiner and Bertholdt shot into the trees, and the Titans below followed. He gritted his teeth. “For now, we need to head somewhere with no Titans. Stay as far away from them as possible. I still haven’t recovered, and my Titan moves slow, so if we get surrounded, I won’t be able to protect both of us.”

“Then why the hell didn’t we wait ‘til night?!” Ymir shouted over the passing wind. “Oh… Signal flares?! So the Survey Corps came to save us?!”

Looking over his shoulder, he groaned. “Damn it, they’re already close. This is all because Eren got violent.” They had to get to the other side of the Titan Forest, and quickly. They were low on gas as it was, but, if they could just outrun the Titans, he could transform. It was open ground from there. They’d have the advantage.

“Reiner! It’s Krista!”

“What?”

“Krista’s with them! Now’s our chance to grab her!”

That wasn’t part of the plan. “You’re full of it! No way you can see that far!”

“I know she’s with them!” Ymir’s voice was desperate, demanding. “That idiot is too kind-hearted for her own good! She came to rescue me!”

That wasn’t part of the plan.

“Even if that’s true, we can’t go now!” He turned forward again, toward the mission. “We’ll get another chance!”

“What?!”

“We can’t grab her the way things are now! There’s no way to bust up that formation! Wait for our chance!”

“‘Wait for our chance’?! When’s that going to be?! After one of your Warrior pals eats me?! No! I can’t trust you!”

“Trust me! I’m not lying when I say we need Krista too!”

Just trust me!

“Prove it then! Prove it to me, right now! I need it to be now ! I want it to be now… At this rate, I’ll never see her again!”

At that, Reiner fell silent. His mission was in his eyes, but his heart…

I’ll never see her again…

“We can’t.” It was Bertholdt who answered, calm and collected. “Right now, we don’t even know if we can escape safely ourselves.”

He had to assure someone that a life would be saved, even if it wasn’t the one he truly wanted.

“I promise you! We’ll save her, I swear it!”

She was silent for a time. Then, as they continued their flight, she shouted, “I’m the strongest one here in this terrain.”

Reiner turned to find her grabbing at Bertholdt’s face, covering his eyes. “Ymir!”

“Ymir, stop!”

“Shut the hell up and think for a second! I’d be able to dominate this terrain, don’t you think?”

Bertholdt’s next anchor barely hit its mark. “Ymir, stop, we’ll fall!”

“That’s fine with me. My Titan might not be as strong as yours, but I can move quickly through the trees. I could grab Eren and rendezvous with the Scouts before you even knew what hit you. Wouldn’t be that hard.” At her threat, Reiner found his footing on the next tree he anchored to and stopped. They couldn’t risk it. “If you don’t take Krista right now, I’ll make a nuisance of myself here.”

Why couldn’t she just go along with the plan?

“Are you completely insane?! We won’t be able to save her that way! All because of your selfishness! I thought that you genuinely cared!”

“I do, in my way. Even if it means robbing her of her future, I want to survive and see her again. As a person, I’m really lower than shit… But she knows that, and she smiles at me anyway. You two don’t know what that’s like, do you?”

He did…

“Damnit!”

“Don’t be mad. I’ve thought this through. If I fight here, it’ll make it easier for you to escape! Or,” she glared at Bertholdt, fire in her eyes, “we could always tear each other apart instead! You think I’m nuts?! Then try me and find out!”

They couldn’t risk fighting here and now. If they did, the Corps would catch up, and they’d be too exhausted to fight them or even run away at that point. Ymir was right; she had the upper hand in this situation.

Damnit…

“Fine! We’ll keep heading to the edge of the forest! You better follow through, Ymir!”

“I will!”

With that, she let go of Bertholdt, falling behind them into a burst of lightning. The plan seemed to fall with her.

Even so, Reiner had to push forward. They still had Eren. He was more than enough, but the Jaw Titan was a priority too. He had to retrieve it. It was his own idiocy that caused them to lose it. It was all him. If he couldn’t bring it back to Marley, he was an absolute failure.

He already felt like one.

The edge of the forest was soaring into view. Their future was somewhere on the other side. As they switched positions in holding Eren, he all but held his breath. If Ymir didn’t come, what was the course of action? If—

“She’s here, Reiner!”

There she was. If she’d returned to them, that meant she’d succeeded in nabbing Krista. Somehow, the plan was working. Somehow, it didn’t seem all for naught.

“Good.”

So, just as he had so many times before, he held a knife in hand, and he jumped from the trees. It was all muscle memory from there. He eyed his hand as the blood trailed into light, and he wondered what the pain really felt like. He’d never felt it. The wound always closed as soon as he transformed.

(f/n) had felt it...

Lightning.

Ymir and Bertholdt latched onto his shoulders, and he ran. He ran, like he had the day they’d come there. He ran like he had, with Bertholdt and Annie on his shoulders. He ran, with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Open sky, open land awaited his feet. He was finally free.

Why did it feel as if that wasn’t the case?

Upon his shoulder, he heard a cough. Krista must have woken up.

“Ymir!”

“Krista… No, Historia.” Ymir must have exited her Titan. “I’m sorry I ate you out of nowhere. You must be mad, right?”

Left, right, left, right…

“What is this? What’s going on? We came to rescue you and Ere—”

“You don’t need to rescue me! Things have changed! I’m with Reiner and Bertholdt now. Like it or not, you’re coming with us! There’s no future inside the Walls! Hear me out for a second, okay? Life outside isn’t as bad as you think. Believe me. There’s no one out here saying the world would be a better place if you’d never been born.”

Think again.

“Yeah?! I don’t think Titans would say much either way! They’d be too busy trying to eat me!”

“We all have our shortcomings, right?! They’re not so bad if you look past that! It’s complicated, alright?!”

“Ymir, I don’t know what’s going on in your mind, but you’re not making any sense! It must be… that Reiner and Bertholdt forced you to do this, right? They threatened you!”

From his other shoulder, he heard Bertholdt voice his own thoughts. “It’s the opposite, actually…”

“I’m right, aren’t I?! Let go! Whatever they’ve got on you, I don’t care! We can fight them! Put the past behind you! What matters is right now! I’m here! I will always be your ally!”

If only…

“Ymir!” Bertholdt. “In case you haven’t noticed, the Scouts are closing in. If we’d left earlier, there might’ve been a decent chance of outrunning them. Going back for Krista was your idea. You forced us. Remember that? Ymir, why? What did we do this for?! Have you changed your mind again? Have you decided to stay inside the Walls with Krista? Don’t be a fool! Think!”

A fool…

“Let go! Don’t listen to him!”

Don’t listen…

“I can’t!” Ymir’s voice was shattering upon the wind. “I wish I could. Historia, I know you think I did this for you. But, at the end of the day, I did it for me. A long time ago, I stole the power of the Titans from one of their comrades. Their power is absolute. Inside or outside the Walls, there’s nowhere for me to run. At this rate, I’m going to be killed… But, they said if I cooperate, hand you over, they’ll speak on my behalf to get my crimes pardoned. It’s because you’re so important to the Wallists, who know the secrets of the Walls… When this world started going to hell… I thought that being with you… would be insurance for the near future… I almost died fighting at the tower… And I just couldn’t take it anymore. I was scared of dying. I wanted someone to save me somehow… I lied, and told you I was doing it all for you, but, really… It was all for my own sake. I’m begging you, Historia! Please, please save me!”

Please…

Please, save me…

“Didn’t I just tell you, Ymir? No matter what happens, I’m on your side!”

He was running toward the sun, running toward the blaze, but it didn’t emanate the brilliance he’d always revered. No, that was behind him. She was behind him. He knew. It was inevitable.

Shadows always sail away from the sun, after all.

Then, another familiar sound…

Was that an anchor in his shoulder?

Was that the whir of the 3dmg?

Were they that close already?

Ymir’s scream told him they were.

“Reiner! Protect us!” Bertholdt jumped under his chin, and to shield him, Reiner brought both his hands up to form a cage against his neck. Just in time, for Mikasa slashed at his hardened knuckles only a second too late.

“Mikasa, no! You’re not going to kill Ymir!”

Mikasa was on his head now. “That all depends on her! What’ll it be?! She can step aside or she can die! Her choice!”

“Reiner.”

That voice…

On his right shoulder, next to his ear...

She shouldn’t be here. She’s injured. She shouldn’t be here.

“Reiner, I know you can hear me.”

I can, (f/n).

“Please, tell me this is some sort of misunderstanding. There’s no way…”

It isn’t.

“Tell me, was any of it real? Did you ever truly care about me? Or was it all part of this lie?”

It was real. I care about you. I care about you.

“How many lies did you tell me?”

Too many to count.

“Why…?”

She was crying. Her fists met his cheek; he barely felt them. He barely felt.

If he had it his way, he’d tell her how real it all was. If he had it his way, he’d take her with him. If he had it his way, he’d stay with her until the end of time, until he’d heard everything she knew and everything she didn’t and every wish and every cry a thousand times over. But, it was never fated to go his way. Fate didn’t favor bloodstained hands. He had to accept that. He had to.

He was up to his shoulders in red.

“Why would you do this to me, Reiner?!”

To save the world.

“Why would you hurt so many people?!”

To save the world.

“You’re terrible!”

I am.

“You’re terrible…”

Her voice fell to a whisper. He couldn’t hear anything else. It was only her.

It was always her.

“I guess it’s always been like this. I’ve never gotten any answers from you. You’ve never listened to me. I should’ve known.”

I’ve always listened. I hear you.

“You’re a monster. I cared about you, and you’re a monster.”

You’re right. You’ve always been right.

“None of that matters. Just focus on taking their heads off,” Mikasa’s words reached him. “If you even hesitate for a moment, we’ll never get Eren back. They’re a threat to Humanity. That’s all.”

Thump, thump, thump.

“Do you think that anyone wants to kill people?!” Bertholdt voiced his own thoughts, broken and all alone. “What kind of person would do this for fun?! Who would want to do this?! With what we did, of course you despise us and want to kill us! We can never take any of it back! But, we couldn’t come to terms with our sins… When we were pretending to be soldiers, it was a little bit easier. It’s not a lie, (f/n)! Connie! Jean! It’s true that we deceived you, but it wasn’t all lies! We really did think of you as friends! We really did care! I know… we don’t have the right to apologize. But, someone… Please, someone… I’m begging you, someone find us…”

“Bertholdt… Give Eren back.”

“I can’t do that. Someone has to do this. Someone…has to get blood on their hands.”

Someone...

“Everyone, jump off right now!”

She left a void on his shoulder. She left a void.

And Death was coming. Titans, a horde of Titans, were approaching them from ahead. The Commander was leading them straight toward Reiner. There was nowhere to go. The weight of the World was on his shoulders; the weight of his friends’ pain was there too. There was no escaping his sins. There was no escaping the path he’d set out on. All he could do was run, run and hope they’d make it out on the other side.

Just do what needs to be done, and keep moving forward.

With hands latched firmly to his neck, Reiner dipped his shoulder and ran. Just as he’d destroyed the gate those many years before, he rammed through the horde in his path. They kept coming. He kept charging. Ymir was screaming. They were around his neck, biting his head, holding him down. He had to move. Quickly, quickly, he had to move.

He had to get home.

Where could he go? He was surrounded. There was no way to fight with his hands around Bertholdt. There was no way to protect Bertholdt as he fought. What could he do? How many were there? Ten? Twenty?

It wouldn’t matter if they died.

Hold on, Bertholdt.

Just a little longer.

We’re almost there.

He let Bertholdt go, and he swung at the Titans closest to him. He swung, and he swung, and he prayed for safety. He prayed for home.

The Scouts…

They were upon him now. They were after Bertholdt. He had to choose the greatest enemy. He had to choose. He brought his hand up and around his friend.

“We’ve made it this far! We’re taking Eren with us and going back home!”

“Bertholdt!” Armin, upon his neck. “Are you two sure about this? You’re going to go home and leave your friend behind?”

Annie…

“You’re leaving Annie behind? Right now… Annie’s deep underground in Utopia District, to the far north… where they’re torturing her…”

No, no that couldn’t be true.

“As soon as they heard her screams, they realized… The wounds on her body might heal, but she can’t make the pain go away. They’re being careful not to kill her, of course, but they won’t let her rest. At this very moment, they’re inflicting pain on her in every way they know how—”

No, Annie…

“Children of the Devil!” Bertholdt… “I’ll kill every last one of you!”

At Bertholdt’s scream, Reiner looked down. At the sight of the Commander, he knew it was all over. Eren was falling; Eren was in Mikasa’s arms. They’d lost. He reached out to the retreating Survey Corps in a last attempt at recovering the Coordinate, but there was no moving with the Titans surrounding him, suppressing him.

It was over. He wouldn’t be able to last against so many Titans on his own. Bertholdt’s Titan was useless in a retreat. They needed Annie. They needed Marcel.

This was all his fault.

In an act of hopelessness and indignation, he picked up one of the smaller Titans and hurled it at their formation. He didn’t care who he killed. He didn’t care. He was on the brink. He was in a corner. So, he hauled another onto his shoulders, and he threw. If Eren was eaten, all the better. Perhaps the one to inherit his Titan would be less of a maniac. Perhaps, they’d be like Marcel. Then, they could go home.

Home…

With that on his mind, he could move. With that on his mind, he could push through hordes of Titans to his goal. In the face of Death, in the face of failure, he could do anything if home was the goal.

Lightning…

No, that wasn’t lightning. What was that?

Was that… the Coordinate?

What was that scream?

All of the Titans upon his back, all of the Titans begging for his nape, left him. They all ran past him, away, to devour another Titan. It was a Pure Titan. There was no reason for them to target it.

Unless…

Eren had the Coordinate. He could use it. The situation couldn’t be worse. Eren, of all people…

We have to get it back.

The last person in this world who should have that power is you, Eren.

“Stay back, you bastards! I’ll kill all of you!”

Eren’s voice reverberated in his very soul. That lightning was behind his eyes again, and he knew it was over. There was no escaping the horde Eren directed their way. There was no escaping his sins. Eren had promised an excruciating death; this was it. He would be devoured if he didn’t run. He would be devoured if he ran.

Bertholdt… I can’t keep him safe!

Bertholdt was screaming. There was nothing he could do. There was nothing.

Nothing…

But then, something so inexplicable happened.

Ymir came back.Ymir saved Bertholdt. Ymir fought the Titans along with him. For some reason, she’d chosen them; for some reason, he’d live another day. So, he ran. He ran until he couldn’t run anymore. He ran until his mind was numb. He ran until Ymir had to take over. And she ran until they were atop Wall Maria, the same Wall they’d destroyed those many years ago.

And, as they caught the breath they hadn’t anticipated in their lungs, he found only one question upon his lips.

“Ymir, why did you come back for us?”

“Well… Must be because I’m an idiot.” They didn’t laugh. “I’m here so you’ll have something to hand over. You guys can’t go home empty handed, right?”

He couldn’t believe it. “Do you understand there’s no hope of you being rescued if we go home from here? If you’re going to run… Now’s the time.”

“What’re you talking about, dumbass? I’m tired out. I’ve just had enough. I’m done.” In that moment, he had to agree. He felt done. Done with the hand he’d been dealt; done with the world; done with life.

“Ymir, why did you rescue me?” It seemed Bertholdt didn’t believe it either.

“Maybe because I heard your voice… If you hadn’t come to destroy this Wall, I would’ve been stuck in an endless nightmare. All I did was repay a debt. I’m the only one who knows about your situation, too… I’m the same way… I was hopeless on my own.” She reached toward the sky. The gesture pained him. He’d seen another hand reach for the stars so many times.

“Thank you, Ymir… I’m sorry.” Bertholdt was crying. If Reiner didn’t feel absolutely void, he would be as well.

“It’s fine… Being a goddess doesn’t feel so bad, either.”

He didn’t know about that.

But, something stuck with him. She’d said she would have been in an endless nightmare if they hadn't come to destroy the Wall. As he watched the stars parade across the sky, he had to agree, at least in some respect. If he’d never come there, he never would have experienced life. He never would have experienced friendship. He never would’ve experienced love. Within the Walls, he’d found a love for the World he’d never known. He’d wished for forever. He’d wished for a future. He’d planned a future. He’d found love.

He’d found (f/n).

She was everything he’d wanted. She was everything he’d known. She was everything he was never meant to know.

But, now, he realized that that destruction was a double edged sword. That destruction had led him to his present moment. That destruction had initiated his own endless nightmare, and there was no deliverance.

You deserve it, Reiner.

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