#and to be open to the suffering it causes

[bjornsmuse]

ℭ𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔩𝔢 𝔩𝔦𝔱 𝔫𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱

{part 2 of of 2}

Summary: it’s just turned dark outside, the cicadas are chirping, the weather is getting warmer and your about to go to sleep after a long and exhausting day of dealing with cramps caused by your period- your about to lay down in bed until your interrupted by a knock on the door

Warnings (for last part): smut, 18+, vampirism, bloodplay if you squint, stalking, southern gothic, biting, oral sex (r!receiving), p in v, slight worship kink, dirty talking, slight Dacryphilia, soft! Remmick(not really more like very manipulative), period sex, touch starved reader

A/n: I wrote this at 3am so it might not make sense and I apologise for that, this ended kind of weirdly too but oh welll, smut is smut

The space between the two of you was just a flimsy door now, and his words hung in the thick, suffocating heat of your bedroom. His words were replaying in your mind, They were obscene. Wrong. Terrifying…And yet—every syllable had dripped like honey into the aching pit in your stomach, curling low, settling beside the pain of your cramps like something more dangerous. Something shameful.

You swallowed hard. Your legs pressed together involuntarily, the pulse between them stubborn and hot. You hated yourself for it, but something about him—about the danger, the way he looked at you—had crawled under your skin and refused to leave. You tried not to move, Tried not to breathe. Maybe if you stayed still enough, the night would swallow him. Maybe this was a nightmare and you’d wake in sweat-soaked sheets, cursing the heat and the heavy throb in your belly, cursing your stupid body for making you weak enough to even feel tempted by this. “You shouldn’t be in here,” you said hoarsely, trying to make your voice strong. It wasn’t, Another pause.

Then his voice came again—closer, deeper now, like he was leaning right up against the door, his mouth barely inches from the crack “Mm. But you let me in. That counts for somethin’.” A soft chuckle. “You gonna pretend you didn’t like the way I looked at you?, I can smell it on you, sugar,” he murmured, slower now, sweeter. “That ache in your belly… the kind that don’t have nothin’ to do with your bleed. You’re drippin’ like honey behind that little nightgown, ain’t you? Tryin’ so hard to be good.”

You let out a shaky breath, thighs pressing so tight now it hurt “You’re filthy,” you whispered with slight disgust for him in general and the fact this is somehow turning you on.

“Mmhm,” he agreed, no shame, no hesitation. “And you like it. Hell, you’re squeezin’ your legs right now just hearin’ me talk, ain’t you? Poor thing. Didn’t even touch you and I already got you throbbin’. That blood of yours’s got a scent I can’t ignore, sweet girl.”He sighs as if he’s disappointed.“How do you know what I’m doing, you don’t know anything about me?!, I don’t even know your name.”You snap back quickly. “It’s remmick darlin’, that’s not what you should be worrying your pretty head about- now that other question?, Cause’ I can smell how warm you are through the wood,” he murmured, like a man talking to a lover, not a stranger he’d cornered in her own damn house. “All that pain sittin’ heavy in your hips—ain’t right for a girl to suffer alone like that, and you’ve been feelin’ like that for a week now, can’t expect me to just sit round’ and do nothing can you?” He questions- it takes you by surprise by how he sounds more like someone with concern than someone trying to manipulate you into opening the door, even then you find yourself reaching for the doorknob, Your fingers moved before your mind could catch up — trembling, slow, but deliberate. The soft click of the lock felt louder than a scream.

You didn’t open the door wide. Just an inch. Then another. Enough for the thick heat of the hallway to crawl inside your room, enough for his silhouette to bleed through the gap like spilled ink. Remmick stood there, barely illuminated by the dim hallway light. His shirt was rumpled, collar open, suspenders hanging loose. His hair curled at the edges with sweat, though not a drop touched his brow. He looked… calm, patient, Like he knew you’d open the door. “Well now,” he said softly, stepping in without asking — without needing to ask now— and shutting the door behind him with that same careful click. “Atta’ girl”.

You didn’t move, not at first. Couldn’t. Your body was trembling in ways you weren’t sure were fear or something darker. Your eyes locked onto his as he moved closer — each step slow and measured, like a predator that didn’t need to rush, because he didn’t need to rush- he knew you weren’t going anywhere. “No need to be scared dove, told you I’d be gentle, and I will..for the most of it.” His hand reached up, fingers brushing a strand of hair from your cheek with a tenderness that felt out of place. “Still scared?” You nodded, barely. “That’s alright,” he whispered, his palm now resting against your jaw, warm and rough. “I like scared. Makes it sweeter.”

And before you can even think about reconsider your decision, your laid back on your bed, his mouth is on your neck, not biting- not yet, just planting hot, open mouthed kisses along your pulse point and just above your collarbone. You didn’t notice his hand trailing between your thighs, not with the way his mouth was making you feel—like your bones were melting under each pass of his tongue, each low hum of approval that vibrated against your skin. You tilted your head for him, offering your throat like it was natural, like you belonged to this moment. You let out a soft moan when his fingers slipped between your legs, to your core which is already soaked and sensitive. He groaned softly against your neck like he felt your heartbeat there.

You gasped softly as his fingers stroked you—slow at first, careful, almost like he was testing your limits. But his mouth never stopped its path across your skin, pressing kisses down your neck to your collarbone, leaving a heat in their wake that made your thighs fall wider for him, welcoming. You didn’t mean to whisper his name. It just slipped out—breathy, helpless. “Remmick…”

And he froze. Only for a second, but you felt it—the shift, like something just beneath his skin twitched in response. His hand stilled, lips hovering over the hollow of your throat. Then his voice, dark and low, as he lifted his head and looked down at you. “Say it again.” There was something behind his eyes now—something feral, like your voice had sunk its teeth into him. You blinked, dazed “Remmick…”You mutter. His hand moved again, this time with more intent. More need. A groan rumbled from his chest like it had been caged too long.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “You keep sayin’ my name like that, and I might just lose my manners altogether.” His hips push against yours, and you feel how unnaturally hard he is, Your legs wrapped around his waist without thinking, your body arching into him, desperate for more friction, more pressure, more anything…And he gave it to you. His hand dipped lower, fingers slipping inside with ease, thick and warm and curling just right. You cried out into his mouth, nails digging into his shoulders through the thin fabric of his shirt.

His thumb circled your clit in slow, perfect strokes while his fingers moved inside you with the kind of rhythm that made stars dance behind your eyes. Your body was a live wire, strung tight. You felt possessed. Weightless. Completely undone beneath him, And the way he looked at you—eyes half-lidded, lips parted, sweat slicking his temple—was almost reverent. Like you were some holy thing, and he was the last man alive allowed to worship you, made you twenty times more sensitive. Remmick can tell your close to coming undone so he pulls his fingers out with a wet pop, gaining a needy whine from you- that whine quickly becomes a moan when you feel his mouth on you instead of his fingers.

Remmick let’s out a moan- a actual moan when he first taste’s you, he moans like you’re the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted “fuckin’ hell dove, reckon your the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” He says against your clit, gently sucking, your hips buck at that touch but he doesn’t give up at all- he doubles his effort. His tongue is now buried inside you, working you over and earning moans and whimpers while his nose gently nudges your clit, your fingers are tugging at his hair, egging him on more until you eventually cum on his tongue but he doesn’t pull away- at least not until crying a little bit from how over sensitive he’s making you.

“Taste so sweet..blood and arousal, can’t get enough, got me bein’ greedy..” remmick mummers against your inner thigh, giving it a little bite before licking his lips as if savouring your taste. Remmick moves back up your body, kissing up your neck until he’s kissing your cheek “mhm, so sweet when you cry dove..I ain’t even gotten a taste of what it feels like to be inside you, and I’m already losin’ my goddamn mind.” He shifted above you, and only then did you feel it properly—hard against your thigh, straining through those low-slung trousers like it had been hurting him for minutes now. And it made your breath catch in your throat. “You want it, don’t you?” he asked with a crooked grin, dragging his hips just slightly against yours so you could feel him fully—hard, pulsing, hot through the fabric.

Your body tensed, caught between raw exhaustion and a second wave of wanting. A deeper one. Hungrier. And God, he was right—your body was still humming, still hot, still aching for more even though you should’ve been satisfied. He pulled back just far enough to look down at you properly, eyes raking over every inch of your flushed, sweat-slicked skin. His voice was soft again, too soft, like a secret between sinners. “You got another one in you, sweet girl?”He reached down, undoing his belt with one hand, slow and deliberate, the click of the buckle sharp in the stillness of the room. His other hand never left you.

“You give me one more,” he whispered, pressing his face to your neck. “Let me make you feel all the way full, like you’re s’posed to.” His trousers slid down, and he groaned low when his cock sprang free, thick and flushed and aching. He gripped himself, sliding the head through your folds, coating himself in you. “Just one more,” he begged, voice cracking just a little with how much he needed it. “I’ll be so fuckin’ sweet for you.”

He was bigger than you expected—thick and hot against your slick skin. He rutted against you once, just to feel the drag of your body along his length, and let out a groan that sounded like it was pulled from deep in his chest “Sweet Jesus,” he muttered, dragging his mouth along your jaw. “Ain’t never felt nothin’ like you.”

Your back arched, body aching to pull him in, to feel that stretch, that fullness he promised. But he didn’t give it to you yet—he held back, teasing, like he wanted to watch you beg. Like he needed to see you come apart again before he finally gave in to what was driving him wild. “Can you beg for me darlin’? Just a lil’ bit..”he basically pleads- and you do beg, and it snaps whatever gentleness he had left inside him because as soon as he hears your voice begging him in such a soft tone- he starts pounding into you. “Feel like heaven, so warm..”he groans against your neck, cock aching inside of you.

You don’t have anytime to adjust to his size, you clench around him as soon as he starts moving- you basically go dumb, all you know while he’s inside you is the feeling of his cock nudging against that perfect spot, the feeling of absolute bliss and you honestly wouldn’t have it any other way.

[motaz-321]

🆘🍉🍉 🆘

please dont skip

I am Fedaa Al Nadi, a paediatrician from Gaza.

Kindly read my story below:

I am Fedaa 35 years old palestinian mother and doctor from Gaza .. till this moment writing theses words surviving Gaza genocide ..and trying with all ways to keep my family safe ..

I am married to Motaz Jad Alhaq, a nurse, and together we have three beautiful children: Mohammed (9 years), Omar (8 years), and Nima (4 years).

I am reaching out to you with a heartfelt plea for assistance, not just for my family but for the many others facing similar hardships in our region. Since October 7th 2023, the grnocide in Gaza has had a devastating impact on our lives. Our home has been destroyed, our jobs are lost, and everything we once had has been reduced to rubble.

Each day, Motaz and I volunteer at a local hospital, trying to provide care to the injured and alleviate their suffering. Despite our tireless efforts, neither of us receives any salary, and we are left to live in dire conditions. We have been displaced multiple times, and we now face the daily struggle of securing basic necessities like food and clean water.

We opened a Gofundme to try to raise funds, and we raised money but Gofundme suddenly closed our account and returned all the donations we had collected. We do not know why and they offered no explanation. This is why we come to you now with a fundraiser on a different platform. If you donated to us previously using Gofundme and your donation was refunded to you, please consider re-sending us the donation using Chuffed. We were counting on receiving the Gofundme donations and now they are gone.**

Your donations, no matter how small, can make a significant difference. They can provide us with a meal, a clean water bottle, or a moment of safety in these difficult times. Each contribution brings hope and alleviates our suffering, giving us strength to face another day. Please consider donating to this cause and sharing our campaign with your friends and family.

[vintagerpg]

Planet of the Mists (1992) is one of the second wave of Star Wars adventures, new trade dress, perfect bound. I find most of this era’s adventures to be a bit more generic — they’re better at feeling Star Wars-ish than their predecessors, but suffer a bit from the lack of weirdness of say, Otherspace, that made the early adventures so memorable.

This one is a bit of an exception to that rule, because it is penned by the always interesting Nigel Findley. It still adheres to the basic template — investigate the Imperials because the Rebels need A Thing (well, need to take a thing away from the Imps — a mineral used to power turbo lasers), crash (there are a lot of crashes in WEGSW modules) run afoul of enemy forces and eventually square off against their leader. In this case, it’s Managing Director Tyne (anticipating Director Krennic of Rogue One perhaps?) who is both a fascist bureaucrat and a dark side force user. Complicating things further is that Imperial mining operations threaten the native alien civilization, giving the proceedings a slight taste of Trek.

The adventure is surprisingly open. The first chunk is a wilderness sandbox, punctuated by pre-scripted events. This leads to the mining facility, which takes up the bulk the adventure. It’s huge and invites players to cause all sorts of chaos infiltrating it. Successfully dealing with the mine leads to a final land battle, followed by a dog fight in space. It’s all surprisingly open-ended. There is a lot of leeway in the event scripting and the NPCs are well-drawn and can be convinced to make big impacts on the proceedings. Tyne is a pretty good villain, and his henchwomen — twin mercs with conflicting loyalties — are fun. There are also no stormtroopers; instead, Tyne’s force is made up of swamp troopers. They’re Imperial Army, with different armor and cool guns that feature a grappling hook. Everyone of your players is going to want to salvage those for themselves…

Cover art is production work from Lucasfilm. I’d guess McQuarrie, but I am not entirely sure. Inside is Tim Eldred. I’ve seen his work before, maybe in Paranoia? I’m not sure. He’s good here, fits right into the vibe established by Vilardi/Nunis in the second edition era.

[johamfated]

Harry shook his head, not in disagreement with what the man had told him, but in disbelief. "That's not what I'd call love, Professor. At least not the kind you preached about so much. Not the kind which caused my mother to lay down her life for me, leaving me protected from Tom Riddle. Not the kind which caused my father to face off against Tom without his wand, just so it bought time for my mother to try and escape with me."

Harry took a moment to breathe, closing his eyes and feeling the warmth from the hearth against his face. Quite frankly, from everything he knew of Dumbledore and his short lived yet heated relationship with Grindelwald, it sounded nothing but manipulative at best and toxic at worst.

"A man with the ability to see glimpses of the future just happens to get expelled from school and comes to stay with his aunt in Godric's Hollow. Where you just so happened to have suddenly become the sole caregiver to your younger brother and sister. He knew you were bitter. All those plans you had made. To explore the world. All of it suddenly cut short because your mother had died. And, I'm sorry, but to me, it sounds like he manipulated your grief, your anger. And used you to get what he wanted. Look how quick he was to drop you after Ariana's death. Left you to deal with the fallout. You yourself told me that in that Limbo place."

Harry opened his eyes, getting a slight wave of disconcertion as he suddenly switched from seeing the old man in his mind, to the younger man sat before him. "I'm not saying you didn't love him. And I'm not saying he didn't hold some kind of affection - or maybe guilt. I mean, it was I who told you that maybe he did, as he did what he could to stop Tom from desecrating your tomb to retrieve the Elder Wand. But I just - you deserved better than him. You deserved someone who loved you selflessly. Someone who wasn't trying to manipulate you into helping him conquer the entire world. If we love someone, we want to bring out the best in them. We would just desert them when things got tough. We wouldn't abandon them when they needed you most. And I know I'm mainly speaking about what I know from my world, from your relationship with him there, but even now, he's got you here, hiding and ostracized from the rest of wizarding society. It doesn't seem like love to me. It's punishment. If I were him, if I genuinely loved you like you say he does, I wouldn't have done this. I'd have killed you and let you reunite with your family. Because I know - at least in my world - that's what you saw in the mirror by the time you died. And, I'd never just leave you to suffer. Cause that isn't what we do to those we love."

@regretismyconstantcompanion

Albus Dumbledore was sitting on the couch, staring into the fireplace that was across from him. The crackling of the flames was the only sound breaking the silence in the cottage that was nestled in the Scottish Highlands. It was isolated, miles away from even the nearest village. He had chosen it for that very reason, desperate for solitude even if it wasn't something that had been forced upon him. He had lost the duel against Grindelwald. He had known that had always been a possibility. There were equals after all and had known each other painfully well. They had spent that summer duelling, friendly but pushing each others boundaries. They had grown and changed and become more powerful but their tendencies had lingered. The fight had lasted well over an hour but in the end, Gellert had just gotten the better of him and managed to disarm him and send him flying backwards. His only minor consolation was the fight had left them both panting and injured. But it had been clear who the winner was. There was no backing out of the agreement they had made. His time in Nurmengard had been brief. A chance to recover from the duel before Gellert gave him an ultimatum. He could remain free if he agreed to leave Hogwarts and retreat from the Wizarding World. Albus had already known he would leave the school, for certainly he had lost that right when he had failed his students and the Wizarding World as a whole. He had agreed, knowing Gellert wasn't giving him a choice and not agreeing would result in either his death or being imprisoned in Nurmengard forever or the deaths of those he cared about. And so here he was, over a year after the duel. Staring into the fire, sitting beside a cup of tea that had long gone cold. Books had been removed from the overflowing bookshelves, scattered around the room. Some had been read, some he hadn't even yet opened. Plain parchment piled up on the desk. Few knew where he was and so letters came rarely. He had picked some of the fruit and vegetables he grew in a small garden he tended to. Perhaps he would make some jams and chutneys if he could find the strength and motivation. It came sometimes, mixed in with the heavy weight of despair that seemed to fill his waking hours. He had failed. He had let down the wizarding world and now he banished just beyond the world he loved so much. He knew what was happening there, of course. He did his best to learn of Gellerts ongoing plans and rise to power. Without him there, there was nothing to stop him. He knew the few Ministries that still existed moved against him but it wouldn't take much for them to fall. Everything would be lost then and Albus knew he was powerless to stop it. @johamfated

[shiorihyugawrites]

Red Regrets

Twelve years ago, Levi Ackerman made the hardest decision of his life—he left behind the only woman he ever loved, believing it was for her own good. But fate is cruel, and when a fiery redheaded boy with a familiar scowl crosses his path, Levi is forced to confront the past he abandoned. The truth he never knew. And the woman whose heart he shattered. (Levi x OC)

Chapter Fourteen

The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows over the remnants of Shiganshina. The once-proud walls of the district now stood broken, jagged and crumbling as the aftermath of the battle settled in. The dust from the destruction lingered in the air like an unsettling fog, suffocating the world in an uncomfortable silence. It was a silence that held the weight of loss—of lives lost, of comrades fallen, and of an insurmountable grief that seemed to ripple through the entire Survey Corps.

Levi stood alone in a small, abandoned house in the heart of Shiganshina, his back against the cold stone wall. His eyes were fixed on the bed where Erwin Smith’s body lay, the man who had led them all through so many impossible battles, the man who had always carried the weight of humanity’s survival on his shoulders. Now, that burden had fallen on someone else—someone who would never be able to fill Erwin’s shoes.

The body before him was still, lifeless, and despite the destruction around them, it was the only thing in that room that felt real. Everything else—the Titans, the rubble, the world they had fought for—felt like a distant memory.

Levi’s fists were clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms as if the pain of it might ground him. His breath was ragged, shallow, but his gaze remained steady, his thoughts as turbulent as the storm that raged inside his chest. His commander, his friend, his comrade—gone. And Levi hadn’t been able to carry out the last order Erwin had given him.

The rage was still fresh, boiling under the surface, threatening to burst. He had failed Erwin. He had failed in killing the Beast Titan, the creature that had caused so much death and suffering. He had been so close. The Beast Titan was right there, ripe for the killing blow. But then that damn Cart Titan had shown up, and Reiner—damn him—had been saved.

The only victory they could claim was the death of Bertholdt. The Colossal Titan was gone, but that small comfort barely soothed Levi’s seething anger. They had won the battle, but at what cost? Erwin was dead. And they were left to pick up the pieces. Only a handful of Scouts remained, and the weight of it all pressed down on Levi’s soul.

“You didn’t deserve this,” Levi whispered to the lifeless body before him. His voice cracked, betraying the calm he fought so hard to maintain. “We shouldn’t have been forced to choose between you and Armin.”

Behind him, he heard the soft creak of the door opening, and he didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Hange’s footsteps were heavy, slow—there was a weight in them, a weariness that matched his own.

Levi didn’t look at her. He couldn’t. He wasn’t ready to face anyone, not yet. His gaze remained fixed on Erwin’s still face, the expression of a man who had given everything for a cause, a man who had led them to this moment.

“Levi...” Hange’s voice was soft, almost tentative, as if she were unsure of how to approach him. She paused just behind him, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. “We did the best we could. And we can’t let that tear us apart. Erwin... he wouldn’t want that.”

Levi’s voice was bitter. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill the Beast Titan like he asked. I couldn’t keep my promise to him.”

Hange’s hand tightened on his shoulder, and for the first time since the battle, Levi allowed himself to feel the weight of her presence, the comfort of a friend who understood.

“You’ll get your chance, Levi. We all know you will,” Hange said, her voice steady, but there was a hint of sadness in it, too. “You’ve always been the one who survives, the one who carries the weight of the world on your shoulders. And Erwin... he would want you to carry on. He would want you to finish what we started.”

Levi stood in silence for a long moment, the weight of those words settling in his chest. His jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed in determination. Hange was right. He couldn’t let Erwin’s death be in vain. He had failed Erwin once, but he would not fail him again. He would make sure of it.

Finally, he turned, facing Hange, his eyes cold and hard with resolve. "I’ll make it right," he said, his voice low but steady, the usual calm mask slipping back into place. "I’ll kill the Beast Titan. And I’ll make sure Erwin's last order is fulfilled."

Hange met his gaze with the same fire, the same drive that had carried them both through countless battles. She nodded, a small but genuine smile tugging at her lips.

“We’ll do it together. We’re not alone, Levi.”

Levi’s gaze softened ever so slightly as he looked back at Erwin’s body. “I promised him. And I’ll keep that promise. Erwin gave everything for this world, for all of us.”

A silence fell between them, and for a moment, Levi allowed himself to grieve—to feel the sorrow and anger that had been simmering beneath the surface. Erwin was gone, but the fight wasn’t over. It couldn’t be. The truth they had uncovered in the basement of Eren’s home—the information about Marley, about the world beyond the walls—was just the beginning. The mission was far from complete, and Levi wasn’t about to let Erwin’s death be for nothing.

Hange sighed, and her voice softened. “Levi, I know you don’t want to hear it right now, but... we’re going to need you. All of us. We’re going to need you to lead us through this.”

Levi looked at her, his expression unreadable, but for a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes—something tired, something human. “I know,” he replied quietly. “But not yet. Not now.”

Hange nodded, understanding the unspoken pain in his words. She didn’t push him further. Instead, she gave him a moment of silence—a moment to say goodbye to the man who had been not just his commander, but his friend.

“Take all the time you need,” Hange said softly. “We’ll be ready when you are.”

Levi turned back to Erwin’s body, his gaze cold and unyielding. He wasn’t ready to face the others, not yet. He needed this moment. He needed to let the weight of it all settle, to honor Erwin in the quiet, in the solitude.

As the last light of the day faded, Levi made a silent vow to the man who had always believed in him. He would finish this. For Erwin. For humanity. For everything they had fought for. And the Beast Titan would fall.

…

Hours later, the sun had already dipped below the horizon, leaving behind a darkening sky that swallowed up the ruins of Shiganshina. The once bustling district now lay in ruin, the battle’s aftermath littering the ground with the remains of the fallen, both friend and foe.

Levi stood at the edge of what was once a proud city, his gaze sharp as he surveyed the wreckage. His mind felt like a whirlwind, an onslaught of memories and emotions he had been trying to keep at bay for hours. Erwin’s death, the dismemberment of the recruits by the Beast Titan’s rocks, Armin’s transformation into the Colossal Titan—it was all a blur now, a series of moments that refused to fade, no matter how hard he tried.

Behind him, the sound of movement signaled the return of the others. Hange approached, her eyes tired but unwavering, her face betraying the same weariness that weighed heavily on Levi’s heart.

The two of them hadn’t said much since the battle ended, each lost in their thoughts, but now was the time to act. The others were scattered around, gathering their strength and tending to the wounded, but Levi knew it was time to move. Time to return. He turned toward Hange and spoke, his voice low but firm.

“Hange, gather the others. We need to prepare the horses. We’re heading back to Wall Rose.”

Hange nodded without hesitation, her expression as hard as Levi’s. She gave him a brief, understanding glance before turning to the rest of the group, her voice carrying across the now-silent battlefield.

"Alright, you heard him. Get the horses ready. We’re heading back to Wall Rose. No one gets left behind."

Levi watched as the others—Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Jean, Connie, Floch—started to move with urgency, the task ahead looming over them. He caught sight of Sasha, still unconscious from the shrapnel of a Thunder Spear, her body still and pale, but alive, at least. Levi felt a twinge of relief that she had made it, though the cost of their victory had been high.

The reality of the mission had set in. Their commander, was dead. And in his place, Hange will take up the mantle as commander. The battle had been brutal, and the repercussions of their loss would echo throughout the Survey Corps. They had achieved a tactical victory, but at what cost?

Levi’s mind raced as he helped guide the remaining horses into position. Armin, the boy who had never wanted to lead, was now the Colossal Titan. His transformation was still fresh in Levi’s mind. The sight of the monstrous figure rising from the ground, the immense heat from the explosion—it was a moment that would never leave him. He had seen death, had faced it countless times, but the stakes had changed. The world beyond their walls was larger and far more dangerous than they ever imagined.

The truth they had uncovered in the basement of Eren’s home—those three books from Grisha Jaeger—had confirmed it. There was an outside world beyond the walls. A world they had no understanding of, and one that now loomed over them. Marley, a nation at war with them, was out there. And soon, the world would know they existed. Levi could feel it in his bones: this was just the beginning.

The others mounted their horses, and Levi swung onto his own with practiced ease, his thoughts still heavy but his body moving on autopilot. Mikasa sat beside him, her eyes downcast, a reflection of her own grief. Armin was still adjusting to his new form, still learning the weight of the transformation he had gone through. Jean and Connie exchanged tired, somber looks, their eyes betraying the weight of the loss of their comrades. Floch, the only surviving recruit, remained stoic, though the tension in his shoulders was unmistakable.

Levi glanced at Hange, who had already taken the lead, her usual energetic demeanor subdued by the weight of command. They had lost too many, but there was no time for mourning now. Not yet. They needed to get back to Wall Rose.

As the group began to ride, the wind picking up, the sound of hooves beating against the earth was the only sound that filled the air. There were no Titans moving around. The sun had set, and with it, the nightmare of the day seemed to fade, leaving only the quiet of the night.

Levi rode alongside Mikasa and Eren, his thoughts scattered but focused. His mind couldn't settle. So much had happened, and so much had changed. But despite everything that weighed on him, Levi found himself grateful. Grateful that he was alive. Grateful that he had kept his promise to Penelope and Preston. He could picture their faces in his mind—the warmth of their smiles, the reassurance that they had given him before he left. He could feel Penelope’s arms around him in the quiet moments when everything felt like it was falling apart.

He had promised them both he would return, and no matter what it took, he would. He couldn’t lose them. Not now, not when he was just beginning to rebuild his place in their lives. He had spent so many years running, fighting, and pushing everyone away, but now, after everything that had happened, after seeing his comrades fall, he couldn’t stand the thought of losing them again.

It wasn’t just about the mission anymore. It was about something more. A future. A family.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silver glow on the road ahead. The journey to Wall Rose would take hours, but Levi didn’t mind the silence. It gave him time to think, time to process the magnitude of what had happened.

They had barely survived. But they had survived. They still had a chance. There was still hope.

As they rode, the shadows of the past and future stretched long across the road, and Levi kept his gaze fixed ahead, determined to reach Wall Rose, determined to fulfill his promise to those who were waiting for him.

He couldn’t bring Erwin back. He couldn’t undo the carnage they had witnessed. But he could honor Erwin’s memory, carry his burden, and push forward into the unknown.

Because for the first time in a long while, Levi knew something. They weren’t just fighting for survival anymore. They were fighting for the truth. They were fighting for the future. And that, he realized, was worth everything.

The wind whispered past them as they rode on, the night closing in, but in that moment, as he rode alongside his comrades, he felt a strange peace settle in his chest. They had lost so much, but they had not lost everything. And that was enough for now.

The journey back to Wall Rose had begun.

…

The quiet hum of the bustling clinic was interrupted only by the soft footsteps of Penelope as she moved swiftly between rooms, tending to patients. Her clinic had always been a haven for those who needed medical help, and it was no different today. But there was an underlying tension in the air that Penelope couldn't shake. The heavy weight of anxiety was felt by everyone—staff, patients, and especially herself.

The walls of the clinic felt stifling, as if the air itself was thick with the worry of what the return of the Survey Corps might bring. The news of the battle at Shiganshina had not yet reached them in full, but the rumors were already spreading. Everyone in the Walls was on edge, praying that their loved ones would return safely. Penelope was no different. She could feel her heart race every time she heard the sound of horses' hooves or the murmur of voices from outside.

It had been nearly six hours since the battle was suspected to have ended, and no word had come.

Preston was at the clinic today. As punishment for his bullying incident at school, Penelope had made him help out with cleaning, a task he wasn’t particularly fond of but understood he had to do. He was alone in the back room, grumbling under his breath as he scrubbed away at the floor, looking up only when Penelope passed by him.

Penelope glanced over at him as she tended to an elderly patient. Her gaze lingered for a moment, her heart aching for her son. Despite his outward bravado, she could see the worry in his eyes, the way he nervously chewed on his lip. He didn’t talk about it often, but Penelope could tell Preston was afraid.

Preston knew his father was the strongest soldier out there, but he also knew the Titans they fought were unlike anything the world had ever seen. The Colossal Titan, the Armored Titan... How could a boy like him not be afraid of the dangers his father faced? 

"How’s the leg today, Mrs. Hailey?" Penelope asked, her voice soft as she knelt beside the elderly woman seated on the examination table.

Mrs. Hailey, a woman in her late seventies who had been a patient of Penelope's for years, looked up at Penelope with a knowing smile. The lines of her face had deepened with age, but there was a sharpness to her eyes, a clarity that Penelope respected. She had always found comfort in Mrs. Hailey’s presence.

"Better, dear," Mrs. Hailey replied, her voice warm but with a hint of concern. "But you seem a little off today. Is everything alright, Dr. Iverson?"

Penelope hesitated for a moment, her hands stilling as she was preparing to dress Mrs. Hailey's wound. The question, though casual, was pointed. It was clear that the elderly woman had noticed the change in her behavior.

"I'm fine," Penelope replied quickly, though the words felt hollow the moment they left her lips. She forced a smile, hoping to ease her patient’s concerns, but she could feel the weight of the worry pressing down on her chest. "Just... thinking about things, that's all."

Mrs. Hailey raised an eyebrow knowingly. "Thinking about that man, Captain Levi, I presume?" she teased, her voice light with humor but her eyes filled with a knowing warmth. "I’ve heard the gossip, you know. Everyone in the Walls seems to know now that Captain Levi is your son’s father."

Penelope’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of Levi's name, but she maintained her composure. She had heard the whispers, the rumors. She had been the subject of countless discussions in the clinic. It seemed that no matter how much she tried to avoid the topic, it was never far from people's minds.

"I’m just worried about him," Penelope said quietly, though the weight of the words felt heavier than she had anticipated. "I haven’t heard anything since the battle ended."

Mrs. Hailey’s expression softened, and she reached out, placing a gentle hand on Penelope’s. "You’re a strong woman, Dr. Iverson. I’ve been coming to you for years now and have seen you flourish as a brilliant doctor, and I know you’ve been through far worse than this. But Captain Levi is stronger than a brigade of soldiers. If there’s anyone who will come back alive, it will be him."

Penelope felt a lump form in her throat, but she nodded, grateful for the comforting words. She had always prided herself on her strength, on being able to keep her emotions in check, but now, with Levi out there and the world so uncertain, it was harder than ever.

"You know, dear," Mrs. Hailey continued, her tone light, "I’d say you have impeccable taste in men. Captain Levi... he’s quite the catch." She winked playfully, clearly trying to lift Penelope's spirits.

Penelope couldn't help but chuckle, though it was tinged with sadness. "He is, isn’t he.," she replied with a small, bittersweet smile. "He’s... he's a good man."

"A very good man," Mrs. Hailey repeated thoughtfully, nodding. "And don’t you forget it. You’re lucky, my dear, to have a man like him in your life."

Penelope’s smile faded as she looked down at the bandage she was wrapping around Mrs. Hailey’s leg. She wasn’t sure if she was lucky or not. She had loved Levi, more than anyone could ever understand, and when he left, it had torn her apart. His cruel, sudden departure had left a scar that had never fully healed, even now, after all these years.

But even now, with the complexity of their relationship, with the past still lingering between them, she couldn’t help but feel a spark of something when she thought about him. She had felt it when he kissed her before he left. It was the first time they had been so close in years, the first time she had allowed herself to feel something again.

"Is there anything else I can do for you today, Mrs. Hailey?" Penelope asked, pushing the thoughts aside as she finished dressing the wound.

Mrs. Hailey shook her head, her smile returning. "No, you’ve done enough, my dear. Just keep that soldier of yours in your thoughts, and I’m sure everything will be just fine."

Penelope didn’t reply immediately. She smiled politely and nodded, but the truth was, the thought of Levi out there—fighting the Titans, fighting for survival—was the only thing on her mind. The world beyond the walls was terrifying, and the uncertainty was unbearable.

As Mrs. Hailey left, Penelope stood by the window, her eyes scanning the horizon. She couldn’t stop thinking about Levi—about the promise he had made, about the kiss they shared. She felt torn, unsure of what to expect when he returned. Would he come back to her? Would things be different between them? She didn’t know, all she could do was believe we would keep his word. He had promised to come back, and she had to believe that.

Just then, Preston walked back into the room, looking hesitant as he clutched a cloth in his hand, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Mom," he said quietly, his voice low with anxiety, "I finished cleaning. Do you think... do you think Dad’s okay?"

Penelope glanced at her son, her heart aching at the concern in his eyes. "I’m sure he’s fine," she said, her voice more convincing than she felt. "Levi’s the strongest man I know. If anyone can survive out there, it’s him."

Preston didn’t look entirely convinced, but he nodded anyway, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Yeah, I know. It’s just... it’s scary, you know? Thinking about him out there with those Titans."

Penelope stepped toward him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I know, baby. But you have to believe he’s strong. He’ll come back."

The silence between them was heavy, but Penelope felt a sense of warmth knowing that, for now, they had each other. And though the world beyond the walls remained uncertain, the small, fragile hope that Levi would return was all they could hold onto.

With that thought, Penelope glanced once more toward the horizon, waiting. Waiting for the return of her love, the return of their family.

…

The quiet of the night was unsettling. Penelope sat in her room, the soft flicker of candlelight casting long shadows across the walls of her bedroom. Her eyes were unfocused, staring at the ceiling as her mind refused to quiet. Preston had long since fallen asleep in his, his steady breathing the only sound that punctuated the stillness.

But Penelope couldn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, her mind wandered back to him. Levi. The man who had once been her world, and who had shattered that world over a decade ago. And now, after all the pain, after all the time spent apart, he was back. He had returned in the most unexpected of ways—pulled back into her life through a series of events she still couldn’t fully understand. The entire fiasco with Kenny Ackerman, the Reiss chapel, the bloodshed... everything felt like a blur. But the one constant was Levi.

It was maddening. Just two months ago, she hated him with everything she had. She couldn’t forgive the man who had abandoned her, the man who had left her while he fought for a cause far bigger than their own love. But now, after everything they had both been through—after that moment of vulnerability when he kissed her before leaving for the mission—Penelope realized just how deeply she was falling for him again. Too deeply. Too quickly.

The strange thing was, she wasn’t sure if it was just the love she had held onto all these years, or if it was the new person that Levi had become. Or perhaps both. Levi wasn’t the same man who had left her. He had changed, just as she had. They were both different now, scarred and shaped by the battles they had faced, but it was undeniable—Levi was back in her life, and more than that, he was in Preston’s life.

She found herself wondering about what kind of life they could have together. Could they truly build a future? Levi’s work with the Scouts was dangerous, and the constant threat of death hung over him like a dark cloud. Could she handle it? Could she live with the constant fear that one day, he wouldn’t come back?

Penelope let out a quiet sigh, pushing those thoughts aside. She was being foolish. Levi was a part of their lives again, and that was enough for tonight. She could think about the future later. But even as she tried to settle her mind, the unanswered questions gnawed at her.

The night continued to stretch on, the soft patter of rain against the window the only sound filling the quiet room. Penelope shifted in bed, trying to find a comfortable position, but her thoughts continued to race. Finally, she gave up, sitting up in bed, running a hand through her long, red curls.

Suddenly, a knock at the door made her jump.

Who could that be? Penelope’s heart skipped a beat. It was late—far too late for anyone to be visiting her. And for a split second, her instincts kicked in. She was from the Underground, and there was no part of her that had ever fully shed the suspicion and wariness that came with that life. In the Underground, a knock at the door in the middle of the night was never good.

Her hand instinctively reached for the knife she kept on her bedside table. Penelope wasn’t about to let her guard down. She had lived through too much, survived too many dangerous situations to ignore her instincts. Holding the knife firmly in her hand, she crept toward the door, making sure her footsteps were as silent as possible. She peered through the peephole, her heart beating a little faster in her chest.

And then, as her eyes focused, her breath caught.

There, standing in the rain, soaking wet and covered in the remnants of the night’s storm, was Levi. His face was as stoic as ever, though there was something in his eyes—something that made Penelope’s heart lurch in her chest. It was pain. It was exhaustion. It was something she couldn’t quite name, but it struck her nonetheless.

She opened the door almost before she could think, her hand shaking slightly as she gripped the handle. The moment the door swung open, their eyes locked.

Levi didn’t say anything at first. His face was cold, his expression unreadable, but Penelope could see the storm in his eyes. He was soaked to the bone, his cloak heavy with rain, his hair matted to his forehead. There was a silence between them—a quiet, charged moment that stretched longer than it should have. She could feel the weight of his presence, the distance they had kept from each other, and yet, in that moment, she could also feel the deep, undeniable connection between them.

Without warning, Levi took a step forward. His eyes softened just a fraction, and then, in an unexpected move, he rested his head on her shoulder. It was a gesture that took Penelope completely by surprise.

She froze for a moment, her breath catching in her throat as she felt the wetness of his hair against her skin. But then, instinctively, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. The pain of his absence, the longing, the frustration—everything that had built up over the years—seemed to fade away in that embrace. Penelope held him tightly, as if she could make up for all the time they had lost, all the years of silence and separation.

Levi’s arms wrapped around her waist, and for a moment, there was only the sound of rain outside and the soft rhythm of their breathing. Penelope felt his warmth, his presence, and she couldn’t help but lean into him, feeling the relief that came with having him back, even if only for a moment.

He didn’t say anything at first, but his grip on her tightened, as if he never wanted to let go. His body trembled ever so slightly against hers, and she could feel the exhaustion in his muscles, the weight of the world that he carried with him. He had been through hell, and yet here he was, standing in front of her.

After what felt like an eternity, Levi pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes. His voice was low, rough, and tinged with something more fragile than she had ever heard from him before.

“I’m sorry for taking so long,” he said quietly, his gaze intense and full of unspoken emotions.

Penelope stared at him, her heart in her throat. "You don't need to apologize," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I’m just... so glad you're here."

Levi looked at her for a long moment, his gaze searching hers as if he was trying to find something. And then, just as Penelope thought the moment might pass, Levi leaned in, brushing his lips softly against her forehead.

Penelope closed her eyes at the contact, her breath catching in her chest. She could feel the warmth of his lips, the soft, tender touch, and in that instant, it felt as though the world had narrowed down to just the two of them.

When he pulled back, Penelope looked at him, her heart pounding in her chest. She was about to say something, anything, but Levi spoke first.

“Thank you,” he whispered. "For waiting. For... everything.”

The words hung in the air, and Penelope felt her throat tighten. She wanted to say so much in return, but all she could do was hold him close, her hands resting against his chest.

“I’ll never stop,” she murmured softly. “I’ll never stop waiting for you.”

Penelope stepped aside, quickly ushering Levi into her home, away from the torrent of rain that soaked him through. The cool, damp air from the storm followed him in, but it felt worlds apart from the storm that was brewing within him.

“Come inside,” she said, her voice soft but urgent. “You’re soaked through. You’ll catch a cold.”

Levi didn’t argue. His shoulders were heavy with exhaustion, and the moment he crossed the threshold of her door, it was like the weight of the world was lifted just a little. Penelope quickly shut the door behind him, the sound of the rain intensifying as it pounded against the wooden frame.

Without a word, she took a towel from the nearby closet and handed it to him, silently urging him to dry off. Levi nodded in acknowledgment and began to remove his wet cloak, dropping it on the floor along with his soaked boots. The familiar scent of rain and the cold, hard scent of battle still clung to him.

Penelope looked at him with quiet concern, noticing the way his movements were sluggish, as if the weight of everything had taken its toll on him. He was always so composed, so controlled, but now he was here, in front of her, vulnerable and worn out.

She couldn’t help herself. “Levi,” she began, her voice tentative, “What happened out there? The mission... it must have been... rough.”

Levi was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the floor. He looked so much like the man he had been when they were younger—closed off, distant—but there was something else there now, something darker. Penelope's heart clenched in her chest at the thought of everything he had been through.

Finally, Levi spoke, his voice low, carrying a weight that made her stomach tighten.

“Erwin’s dead,” he said quietly, his words almost lost in the stillness of the room. “Along with most of the Survey Corps... Hange, my squad, and one recruit made it out.” He paused for a moment, his voice faltering slightly as if the words themselves were too heavy to speak.

Penelope’s breath caught in her throat. Erwin... gone? The man who had led them through countless battles, the one who had supported her—who had helped get her aboveground, who had funded her medical education... He was dead? She couldn’t process it, not in that moment.

She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. "Commander Erwin... no," she whispered, the grief settling in like a heavy stone.

Levi’s gaze remained fixed on the floor, the weight of the world visible in his eyes. “It was... bad, Pen. The Beast Titan was there, throwing rocks, taking out our soldiers. We lost a lot. A lot.” His voice dropped even lower as if he were reliving it all over again.

Penelope swallowed hard, her chest aching at the thought. She knew how much Erwin meant to Levi. The two of them had been through so much together, had shared so many losses. And to lose Erwin now, in such a brutal way...

Levi continued, his words heavier now, more calculated. "There’s more, though," he said, glancing briefly at Penelope before his eyes fell back to the floor. “We found something in Eren’s basement. The truth about the world. But we can’t act on it yet. We need to debrief with Premier Zachary, Commanders Nile and Pyxis. We still don’t know everything, but we know enough.”

Penelope’s mind raced, the weight of his words settling deep within her. The truth about the world? That could mean anything. A thousand possibilities flooded her thoughts. What had they discovered? What could be worse than the Titans they had been fighting all these years?

Levi continued, his voice cold as he spoke about the future. “The true enemy is worse than we thought. There’s a whole world beyond these walls, and it’s not just Titans we have to fear. The world outside...” He trailed off, as if the reality of it all was too much to bear.

Penelope felt her stomach twist at the thought. Worse than the Titans? What could be worse than that?

She remained silent, her mind spinning, but she couldn’t stop her hands from reaching out. She moved to sit next to him on the couch, not sure what to say, not sure if words would even help.

Levi seemed to notice her movement but didn’t pull away. Instead, he sat there beside her, stiff and silent, still processing everything that had happened. His body was so tense, as though he were holding himself together by sheer force of will. He always did that—never showing weakness, never letting anyone see just how much it hurt.

Penelope’s heart ached for him, for the man he had become, for everything he had been through. She couldn’t imagine how much pain he was in, how much of a burden he carried.

Reaching out, she placed her hand on his arm, offering him the only comfort she could. "Levi," she whispered, her voice barely a breath. "I know it’s hard... I know you’re carrying so much. But you’re not alone, you don’t have to be alone."

Levi remained still for a long moment, his eyes staring straight ahead, as though her words were still sinking in. And then, almost imperceptibly, his shoulders slumped, the weight of everything falling down on him at once. He let out a shaky breath and turned to her.

And then, to her shock, Levi leaned into her, laying his head on her lap. 

Penelope froze for a moment, her heart racing, but then she realized—he was seeking comfort. He needed her. He needed to feel something, anything, after everything he had seen.

Before she could think, her arms wrapped around him instinctively. It was the same comforting gesture she had given him all those years ago when they were younger, when he had come back from one of their many fights, wounded and exhausted. She had always known how to comfort him, even when he pushed everyone away.

As her hand ran gently through his undercut—the same motion she had used when they were younger—Levi’s breath hitched. His arms tightened around her waist, pulling her closer, as if he was afraid she might disappear if he let go.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His silence was enough. The rawness of his emotions, the pain of Erwin’s death, the horrors of the battle—it all seemed to weigh on him in that moment, and Penelope could feel the tremor in his body.

Levi had always been the strong one, the one who carried the burden for everyone else. But now, as he leaned into her embrace, Penelope could see the cracks. He was human. He was grieving.

Penelope squeezed him tighter, holding him like she used to when they were kids. She didn’t care about the past anymore. All she cared about was the man in her arms—the man who had come back to her after all this time.

Levi’s body trembled, and for the first time in a long while, Penelope felt him let go. He cried, quietly, silently, but the weight of his grief was evident in every sob, in every tremor that ran through his body.

And Penelope, for the first time in so many years, allowed herself to just be there with him, to hold him and give him the comfort he had given her all those years ago. She ran her hand through his hair again, just like she used to, and for that brief moment, the world outside didn’t matter. It was just them.

He’s here.

He’s alive.

The moment stretched, a peaceful silence filling the room as Penelope and Levi held each other, the weight of the world slowly starting to ease. It was as if time itself had paused, granting them a fleeting moment of solace amid the chaos that had defined their lives. She could feel Levi’s tension beginning to release as his breathing steadied, the raw vulnerability that he had so rarely shown finally seeping through the cracks of his hardened exterior.

But before either of them could say another word, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the quiet hallway.

Penelope’s heart skipped a beat, and her body instinctively stiffened. She pulled away from Levi, startled, as the noise grew louder, coming down the stairs with a sense of urgency.

The door to the room swung open, and there, standing in the doorway, was Preston.

The boy froze, his wide gray eyes locking onto Levi. His hair was disheveled, his pajamas slightly askew, and he was breathing heavily, as if he had sprinted down the stairs without thinking. In that moment, all of Penelope’s earlier anxiety, all of the overwhelming emotions she had been holding back, seemed to crash over her again.

Preston’s face was streaked with tears, and the sight of it made Penelope’s heart ache. The boy stood frozen, staring at his father—his dad—as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

Levi, who had been taken by surprise as well, stiffened for a moment, unsure of how to react. But then, without warning, Preston took a step forward, his small body shaking with relief and emotion. He couldn’t contain himself any longer. The tears that had been building for so long spilled over, and he ran toward Levi.

"Dad!" Preston cried out, his voice breaking with the weight of everything he had felt since Levi left for the mission. He flung himself into Levi’s arms, holding him with all the strength his young body could muster.

Levi hesitated for just a moment—just a brief, fleeting second—before he wrapped his arms around Preston, pulling him close in return. The warmth of his son, the feeling of him in his arms, was overwhelming. For Levi, who had lived his life isolated and hardened by battle, this moment felt like everything.

“I kept my promise,” Levi whispered, his voice thick with emotion he never allowed to surface. He squeezed Preston tighter, feeling the boy’s small hands clutching at his coat, his shoulders trembling.

Preston buried his face in Levi’s chest, his tears soaking the fabric of Levi’s uniform. “I knew you would come back, Dad,” Preston sobbed, his voice muffled against Levi’s shirt. “I knew it. I was so scared… I—I didn’t want to lose you.”

Levi’s chest tightened as he held his son. He had always feared this moment, feared the pain that came with putting his family in danger, with being the kind of man who could break promises. But hearing Preston’s words—feeling his son’s desperate need for him, the hope that had kept him going through all the darkness—they hit Levi harder than he had expected.

“You won’t lose me, kid,” Levi murmured softly, his voice hoarse as he ran a hand through Preston’s hair, the same comforting motion he had used on Penelope just moments ago. "I’m not going anywhere."

Penelope stood behind them, watching the moment unfold. Her chest swelled with a mixture of relief, gratitude, and something deeper—something tender. She could see the bond between them, the father and son she had once thought could never be. And though the years of pain and uncertainty between her and Levi hadn’t vanished, seeing them together like this made it feel as though something had finally started to heal.

Penelope took a small step forward, her heart still pounding from the sudden outpouring of emotion. She placed a hand on Levi’s shoulder gently, offering him a quiet smile. 

Levi met her gaze, his expression unreadable, but in his eyes, Penelope saw something that wasn’t there before—something vulnerable, something hopeful. She couldn’t explain it, but in that moment, they both understood. There was so much pain they still had to face, but for the first time, there was the possibility of something else. Of a future, perhaps.

Preston pulled back slightly, still holding on to Levi’s waist. He looked up at him, his tear-streaked face breaking into a smile that made Levi’s heart ache. "Dad..." he said softly, his voice still shaking, "I’m so glad you’re back."

Levi nodded, his lips curling into the faintest of smiles—something softer, something more real than the cold, distant man Penelope had known all those years ago. “Me too, kid. Me too.”

They stood there for a moment, father and son reunited, a silent promise exchanged between them. Penelope watched them, a quiet ache in her chest. There was so much more to work through, so much left unsaid, but for now, in this moment, everything felt right.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Levi repeated, more firmly this time, as if the words themselves were a lifeline.

And Penelope, though the weight of the past still loomed large, allowed herself to believe him.

They had their family now. They had each other.

~

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[iloveyanderes]

PART 1!!

Copy pasted from my sagau-ish fic on ao3. If you wish to see it there, it's called green and gold by hellomelon8

Sagau thingy. For some background this version of (name) is a doctor that specializes in children, mainly children that suffer abuse and has performed many life saving surgeries for children. Just know they are very knowledgeable about medical things, but since I'm no way knowledgeable in medical things there will be a lot of medical inaccuracies or just random bullshit treatments even if I did try to find out how they were done. Also (name) is a bit more on the timid and submissive side, I know this is very oc for an (x reader) thing but it’s vital to the plot of the story. So well now that that’s over let's start the story:

The last thing that lyney, lynette, and freminet ever expected to find on a failed mission was a random woman sleeping. Well a random woman was fine but not someone who looked like her. Like the creator.

The trio of siblings are in no way religious but their father certainly is, along with 90% of teyvat. According to the ancient texts there supposed to kill anyone who quote on quote ‘had the audacity to look like the creator’

Butttttttt, this could be the creator and attempting to harm the creator is a worse sin then having the ‘audacity to look like the creator’ but if they aren’t then people will get mad at them for not immediately killing them and that’ll cause them unwanted trouble.

But also father could get mad at them for not taking her if this is the creator-

“Lyney” suddenly his sister lynette snapped him out of his thoughts, he blinked a little bit before turning to her.

“Yes my dear sister?”

“We should leave, no one here so we can’t be faulted for this. Whether or not this is the creator it’s better if were not the people seen with them”

Lyney opened his mouth like he was planning to say something but nothing came out, the woman in front of them looked pretty much identical to all illustrations they’ve seen of the creator. There's everything through portraits to statues of the creator so their face has been pretty much shoved into their minds.

This woman had the same oval face, light brown eyebrows, skin the color of honey, long lustrous blonde hair-however it was tied into a long braid, one that had sustained a little bit of damage though so it was a bit messy. Creator above forbid that when this woman opens her eyes they turn out to be green.

“All right, let’s go” he said out loud, then just as they were about to walk away they heard shifting.

Oh come on, she had to wake now?

The girl began to stretch until she fully opened her eyes, and just of course her eyes had to be green.

Lyney stared at the girl.

The girl stared back, a mix of confusion but worry on her face.

“Are you okay?” the girl suddenly asked lyney, it caught him off guard, that was not the question he expected her to ask.

“Y-yes?”

“No not you, the guy behind you” lyney then realized the girl was referring to freminet, lyney turned to their youngest sibling and realized that freminet did not in fact look okay.

Then all of a sudden he fell to the ground, a little pile of blood coming out of lyney’s brother, before he could even move the woman ran in front of them and made it to freminet first.

It appears she had been sleeping on a large bag because she pulled it off her back and immediately emptied it on the grass floor, it was full of……medical supplies!?

Just when she placed two fingers on his stomach-obviously trying to feel for something that lyney interviewed, he grabbed the creator-lookalike's hand, pulling it away from his brother. “What are you doing!?” lyney found himself yelling, rather harshly but no one could blame him really.

“Checking what’s wrong, I can’t heal him if I don’t know what's wrong” oh, she thought he was talking about her touching him-well that was partly true but it was more of the fact that she thought she could treat freminet.

“I don’t think you have the skills to treat him”

Weirdly enough that was what made her flinch but she quickly recovered, staring at him with those green eyes she spoke again. “I’m a doctor, studied for 10 years. I promise you your- uh friend? Brother?-whatever he is is will be okay”

Lyney didn’t really know why he was so stunned by whatever this woman was saying, against his will he found his hand loosening, allowing the girl to do what she wanted.

As it turns out someone stabbed freminet and he almost had internal bleeding-almost. The creator-look-like lady had a weird habit of explaining everything she was doing so lyney knew exactly what was going on.

“They stabbed him in the stomach, almost hitting a blood vessel but they did get into the stomach acid so he’ll need a bunch of water…” than a bunch of other medical stuff that meant no sense to lyney but sounded really professional.

When she bandaged freminet she mumbled something under her breath that lyney didn’t hear.

“What did you say?” he asked her, she looked bamboozled for a moment, before shaking her head. “Nothing, it’s just that he healed a lot better than I expected”

With that lyney took a look at his brother again, the stab wound looked almost completely healed, wow.

Could this…..actually be the creator? Well, there could be a way to test it.

“Hey, what's your name? I’m lyney, this is my twin sister lynette, and this is our a brother freminet, uh thanks for treating him”

“Oh! I’m (name) it’s a pleasure to meet you!” oh, imposter then. Well lyney now owes her a debt, so he could help (name) change her appearance. lyney didn’t believe in killing people simply because they look like an all mighty god but there are many many people out there who will so really the only way he could repay name is with is by disguising her so no one tries to kill her-

“IMPOSTER!!!!!!!” oh shit, someone is here.

Before anyone could move an arrow was shot.

It went right by Lyney's face.

And straight into (name’s) chest.

Blood splattered onto the ground.

Oh.

That changes everything.

End chapter.

[phantomyre]

A flood of emotions had consumed Lucrecia’s mind to the point where she was completely disconnected from reality. After the plethora of pain and agony, Lucrecia would have breathed her last, but alas—her body wouldn’t allow it. Nevertheless, it wasn’t what she wanted in this moment, for all she could think of was the pain she had put her son through, and how his cries had fallen on deaf ears. Had it not been for Vincent’s interference, she might have gladly drowned in the lake below, joining the Lifestream… but no. Vincent wasn’t aware that even this wasn’t possible for his beloved woman. For within her, Jenova’s cells thrived upon her despair and pain. Yet, even if he had the assurance that she was immortal, how could he simply stand back and watch her suffer? Little did he realize, however, that was exactly what she was experiencing.

Pulling her out of the water, Vincent carried her limp body from the deep lake, the essence of mako lingering on their clothes and skin. The mako renewed his energy, hastening the healing process of the injuries he had endured from the journey to the cave. It momentarily caught his attention. Only those enhanced were able to be healed by mako. Mortals or those who rejected the altered cells would end up with mako-poisoning; a harrowing reminder of what he was. Try as he might, Lucrecia remained unresponsive to him. On occasion, her eyes would open and she would mutter Sephiroth’s name, but seemed completely unaware of what had happened. What’s more, she was oblivious to who was holding her. She was dead to reality within that space of time, her mind and heart willingly enslaved to the visions created by her son and that of her sorrows. Thus, leaving her vulnerable shell in the care of Vincent. How long she would be in this state, he had no idea. But time was also meaningless to the immortal. He would watch over her. Jenova wouldn’t have any qualms to tamper with a vulnerable host whose mind was beyond reach, after all. By this time, the night was drawing close, and the chill of the evening began to envelope the area. The amber clouds above grew stronger with the oncoming meteor, yet the planet continued to wax cold. Soaked to the skin, Vincent felt a chill creep over his body, prompting him take Lucrecia up in his arms once again and make way for the inside of the cave. In the hopes that the mako spring could revive Lucrecia, Vincent placed her close to the base of the crystal, helping her to sit up. Removing his cloak, he did his best to wring out the water and laid it out to dry, hoping that it would be dry enough to place over her before it became too cold. All the while, Vincent watched Sephiroth warily. Now, all he could do was wait.

In the midst of the horrors, Lucrecia’s mind continued to reel with the visions of her son. Even though she knew full well this was all just a vision and long gone in history, she couldn’t help herself and lunged towards the scene where Sephiroth fought the pack of mangled hounds. “Sephiroth! Run!” Lucrecia screamed and darted towards her son with the intent of sparing him from an oncoming wolf, only to stagger and find herself behind the same glass observation wall where the other scientists were located, including Hojo. Lucrecia cried out and brough her firsts down hard against the glass, watching the scene unfold helplessly. “Sephiroth!” The mother screamed, knowing there was nothing she could do. It was then that she heard Hojo’s maniacal laughter, prompting a shift in Lucrecia’s attention. Fury filled her chest. “Let him go, Hojo! I beg you! How can you do this to our son?!” One side of her wanted to rip the man apart, but the other side knew this wasn’t all his fault. It was hers. Hojo cackled and turned a grim sneer towards Lucrecia, his eyes black as the void. It caused Lucrecia to stumble back in horror. “And what’s this…? Can’t you see that I’m in the middle of a very important experiment? Or have you lost your mind?” taunted the figment of Hojo, his voice dripping with ill intent. “Ah… yes. The face of regret.” A cruel chuckle echoed in her ears, sending a terrible chill down her back. The madman grinned and turned his attention to little Sephiroth, alone, and fighting for his life. “We both know why this must continue. The future of science depends on it. Don’t you feel the thrill, too? But of course you do… after all, you even made your precious Vincent one of your experiments.” Lucrecia’s heart nearly stopped. “No! You’re wrong! It wasn’t an experiment!” “Am I wrong, though?’ Hojo sneered as a wolf came stalking towards Sephiroth. “You used his body to finish your thesis—your pride and joy. Your greatest experiment. Is it not true?” Lucrecia trembled and shook her head, backing away as she turned her attention again to Sephiroth, trying to ignore Hojo, but all she could see was the truth. Hojo’s image continued to torment her. “As you can see, I’ve merely taken up this fine specimen to put him to his greatest potential. Just as you did with that Turk.”

Lucrecia fell silent, her fists shaking. “Once a scientist… always a scientist.”

The wolf tore into the child Sephiroth, and Lucrecia fell on her knees with a scream. “Nooo!” Sephiroth’s words then echoed in her mind, his current older form gazing at her with those empty yet hate-filled eyes. ‘I would have welcomed destruction’. Everyone but Sephiroth faded from her vision in that moment as she heard Sephiroth’s words, paired with vision of her little boy on the brink of collapse from blood-loss. Her eyes filled with tears so that she could only see a blur. “What am I to do… tell me… I… I can’t…” But no. She must continue to endure as long as Sephiroth chose.

All the while Lucrecia watched the horrific scenes unfold, Vincent struggled to hold her down. She had been edging closer to a cliff that ended in the large pool of water below. Her struggles became more desperate, more violent, and looming on the precipice of insanity. There was nothing he could say or do to console her, not knowing what she was truly witnessing. But what terrified him most was her raw strength. The more cruel the visions, the stronger she became, making his grip of little effect. It was all he could do to prevent himself from transforming in order to overpower her.

The visions continued to torment Lucrecia, spell-bound by all that was unfolding before her. The screams of her innocent child begging for release, the cries of pain and agony tore her heart to shreds, so much so that she began to lose consciousness. Her nails dug deep into whatever it was that was holding her down. She became like a wild animal, immune to her own pain and to all logic, with only one focus in mind. To save the life of her child... a child who was long gone. Even if she knew deep inside this was merely a vision, she could no longer bear it. "Stop it... stop it! Hojo! You monster!" She tore through the darkness and seemed to be in free-fall. And that's when she noticed Sephiroth's true form come into view. That face, dark and beautiful, beset with agony hidden away behind a shield of hatred. She locked eyes with those mako colors. Yes, they were indeed cruel. Those eyes of a serpent. But no amount of cruelty he could ever do would amount to what they had done to him. 'He dared to hope... even amidst everything. And I....' A heaviness took Lucrecia. Guilt built upon guilt. Pain swirling into an endless dark hole where there was no end in sight. It was all embodied behind those mako colored eyes. 'You were born and bred to be a monster... but you were always meant to be an angel. But I... you...' Numbness took hold of her, and her vision became to blur. She thought she could feel herself drawing closer to Sephiroth, and her arm reached out, wanting to wipe away those tears. But he was millions of miles away from her. From everyone. From his past, from his humanity. And she understood why. "I wanted... to be your world. And the world has hurt you. ...You're right, Sephiroth... you are right... to feel this hatred..." Sephiroth's figure began to fade in her vision, the faintest voice of Vincent calling to her in the distance. 'Perhaps this world is....' The vision faded and became black. Sinking deep beneath the surface, a black mist began to engulf Lucrecia's body. However, a whisp of red swirled around her, wrapping her in safety. The darkness fought the figure in red, the water seeking to take them both down. However, light broke the surface of the water, and both managed to finally make their way to the surface. Emerging from the water, Vincent dragged Lucrecia's limp body across the shore, weighed down by the water that soaked both of their garments. Attempting to revive her, Vincent couldn't find any pulse. It wasn't until he lifted her up and cupped her face that he felt the faintest heart-beat. Pain filled Vincent's eyes. There was no way of knowing if or when she would ever revive. On the one hand, he was relieved she was no longer suffering. But on the other, he knew that if she awoke, she would experience even more of what Sephiroth and Jenova had in store for her. Would her pain ever end...? No. Not until Sephiroth's did, first.

[george-oswald-dannyson]

A Letter to All Players from Bluepoch

In recent days, multiple controversy-related incidents involving employee conduct have occurred both within and outside Bluepoch. These include cases where employees, without authorization, leaked unreleased content to players, causing the company to suffer losses in content assets. Some employees also posted internal photos on social media and exaggerated their roles and authority, leading to public backlash and negative discourse. These incidents have not only damaged our company’s reputation but, more importantly, betrayed the trust and expectations of our users toward us and our title Reverse: 1999. We feel deeply responsible and heartbroken over this and would like to extend our sincerest apologies to all users.

1. Reflections and Corrective Measures The above-mentioned violations have breached the rules and policies laid out in our employee handbook. The individuals involved will face strict internal disciplinary action. At the same time, we will enhance our information security protocols, reinforce confidentiality over project materials, strengthen internal regulations concerning employee social media usage, clearly define boundaries for public statements, and strictly forbid any false claims regarding one’s role or status within the company.

We acknowledge that personal views or preferences expressed by employees before joining Bluepoch, provided they do not violate public order and good morals, should not be taken as representative of the company’s stance or the employee’s current views. Nonetheless, we are aware that certain past statements made by employees have hurt our users, and for this, we sincerely apologize. We firmly believe that creators must respect the content and understand the team’s values in order to produce their best work.

This incident has exposed weaknesses in our internal management and gaps in staff training. Going forward, we will continue optimizing our training system, implement evaluations around company values, and deepen employees’ understanding of the company and project’s creative tone. We hope every member of our team will truly understand and embrace the creative philosophy of Bluepoch and Reverse: 1999.

2. Creative Principles and Team Mission

Bluepoch is committed to content-driven creation and strives to become a benchmark company for narrative games. We remain dedicated to infusing every piece of work with the passion and expectations of our users. We understand that the unique tone of Reverse: 1999 stems from our relentless pursuit of retro aesthetics, literary storytelling, and cinematic expression. The vibrant discussions about the Storm Era’s worldbuilding and the genuine love users have for the characters continue to nourish our creative process. For this, we offer heartfelt thanks to every user who has accompanied 1999 on its journey.

We have closely followed recent user feedback across various platforms and will continue to uphold the following principles in our content creation:

— No “personal agendas” or individual biases: All creative content within the team undergoes multi-level review to ensure it serves the worldbuilding, story, and character development. Personal preferences will never be allowed to distort the project’s tone.

— Openness and growth together: We welcome creators who hold ideals and passion. In our recruitment process, the core criteria is alignment with the company’s creative philosophy and shared commitment to our project’s vision.

At Bluepoch, we will always treat every story and every line of dialogue with sincerity. The tone and direction of Reverse: 1999 will continue to be overseen by our lead creatives—Hitako, Factory Head, Guest Cat, and others. We believe that only through a shared faith in our content can we remain true to our mission in a changing market. Thank you, Timekeepers, for your supervision and understanding—let us walk together and protect this journey that never ends.

Bluepoch

May 6, 2025

[kingzombear]

remember that one post you did a while back with pomni and jax’s personalities swapped?

can i have more of that, my good bear?

She likes to sneak in his room when he's sleeping w an airhorn and when he jolts awake screaming she decks him in the face with a pie lol

[koszmarnybudyn]

I won't let myself get devoured

Or a Normally Oak-swallows-garcia angst post about grief and anger.

[dykedvonte]

I was rewatching mouthwashing, and I ended up thinking of the different reactions that Curly and Jimmy had in doing their tasks. How during the scene of Anya evaluating Jimmy and showing dread towards the idea of doing his evaluation, Curly was the one that offered to take it off her hands. He had no issue with adding more to his plate, because he knew - or well, thought, he knew that Jimmy wasn't going to "bullshit" with him since he's known him for a long time. When Anya hands Curly a note from Swansea, Curly goes to check out what the issue is and he takes care of it without a complaint, the only "complaint" he has is how this incident could have damaged the pods. Which is reasonable, those pods are their only way to be saved if anything tragic happens on the ship. However, in comparison to Jimmy being asked to do things, he's passive-aggressive about it. When Anya asks Jimmy if he could help her out with Curly's painkillers, he tells her that people should be worth their titles, specifically using her title as a nurse when she asked him for help and then when she says forget it, since he made her feel insecure, he still goes "Oh no, I'LL take care of it" as if he was doing a chore, a favor for her. Then, there's that part where he blows up at her for things that she didn't even ask him to do - more so the others asked him about it, like the code scanner, him deciding he needed to find the axe for the foam, and then, there's the medicine part (which when she does ask, and she reconsiders - going to do it herself, he takes that away from her). Jimmy complains about the tasks he has to do and he treats it like a big issue, a "woes me" that he has to do this and that - wanting the praise of the capital without actually doing any work. While Curly doesn't complain about it, in fact, he even mentions that he's aware of how well he is doing at his job as a Captain during that cockpit scene with him and Jimmy. If Jimmy only had to do a small amount of tasks to get irritated and annoyed at being captain, while Curly didn't which I feel like encapsulates their personalities. Curly understands what he's doing is a job, it's a responsibility, why would he complain at any point for doing what he's suppose too? Why would he be upset at people asking him to do tasks? While Jimmy on the other hand, isn't used to it at all and it's different to what he's had before and he's realizing that he doesn't actually like doing the work he has too. I just wanted to ramble about it even if it seemed kind of obvious xd

It’s obvious but it is a thing people miss or understate when trying to find parallels in Curly’s and Jimmy’s relationship/personalities.

Like the way people portray it as neither taking responsibility when it is almost split down the middle of Curly taking responsibilities and faults that shouldn’t be his and making himself unequipped to handle the ones that are while Jimmy refuses to handle the responsibilities he has because he wasn’t expecting the work that comes with them.

Not a lot to say but people forget that another thing the game comments on is prioritization of issues and responsibilities and how the guys fail at it in one way or another in the situation.

[pokemon-ash-aus]

Imma be honest, is really interesting seeing Berry with the mindset and opnion she had before when u know how much regret she has and shows later in the future. I kinda wonder what would happen if future Berry had a chance to talk with her past self?

Tbh, she definitely is of the opiniom that she can't save herself. Everything that happens was her fault and she deserved it.

It's not a fun feeling

Berry | Spot | King

[brofightiscancelled]

okay ill bite why do u hate kaoru sakuraba sidem aside from the fact that they went from hokuto as a main blue to downgrade to kaoru. to make it less awkward that I’m asking abt sidem on ur osomatsu side blog, what sidem idols would u assign to each matsu ?

i think sideM should collab w osomatsu-san and put them all in Beit so they can all get JOBS!!!!!!

anyways i hate kaoru from idolmaster sideM. i need all my osomatsu-san side blog followers to know that i hate this man. "i need a lot of money fast to pursue an extremely niche medical research track, which is why i quit my stable and high paying job as a surgeon to become an idol while having no soft skills, physical strength or stamina, or interest in getting along with people" are you Stupid??

he's not even using his idol clout to spread awareness of the rare disease he's trying to cure (like SEM does) so it can secure funding, he sees it 100% as a job and refuses to have fun, he is actively unpleasant and uncooperative in every interaction with his coworkers because he's trying to "rise to the top". it seems like the only thing he has going for him are his looks and that he kind of liked to sing when he was a kid. why not become a model at that point when you have the personality of a wet tree trunk. or better yet why not STAY A FUCKING DOCTOR!!!!!

also, i don't like meganes, so write that down.

[sketchehm]

I think the moment the dteam see each other again there is no space for happiness or horror there's only "You're here you're here you're here you're here" and they're hugging each other and crumbling to the floor, holding each other so desperately like they could fuse together and never have to split again

And then the Mafia has 3 growling cornered dogs when they remember there are other people in the world

(Sprinkling silly dnn, either platonic or romantic your choice, but after things settle down and the dteam are no longer constantly searching for exits around Team Mafia, Sapnap starts wearing a ring, matching Dream's and George's)

(They send Shadoune to talk to him that just because they know now and they got Dream and George it doesn't mean he can wear symbols from the other mafia)

("...you mean my wedding ring?")

((Also also, very silly, I think Dream would give them constant heart attacks because while he is good at his job and good at dealing with inner problems and bureaucracy, he also will not stop working if they don't pull him away. They're trying to not leave any of the dteam together by themselves at first but no one told them snf are the only reason Dream doesn't work for a week straight and then goes for a 3 day coma))

You don’t know how much this was spinning in my brain…..

It is Shorter:tm: than what I thought it was gonna be, but I did skimp out on a lot of details.

Sapnap is kept in that basement for too long, alone. Farfa visiting was a blessing until it wasn’t, and he left so quickly too, not enough to soothe any kind of building anxiety. His food and water always delivered when he wasn’t awake, even after forcing himself to stay up for he doesn’t know how long…He shouldn’t be so dependent on anyone, not in this line of work. He’s lied, murdered, and tortured others plenty, it was in the job description, it’s how he was raised, cold and sharp…..So the kindness he can manage to scrape together was always something soft and warm to him. Something precious.

When with Dream’s family, the warmth of trust and comfort weren’t always constant but he always had something to go back to. Dream and George would always be there. He had the trust of the other members, something he could depend on. Or…at least he thought he could. Betrayals came quick, back to back, too many he thought would never hurt the family. He was reminded of the world he lived in…

Dream kept him and George close. Too close sometimes, but he couldn’t complain….as overwhelming as it got sometimes, he treasured it. But work had to get done and the family couldn’t be left battered as it had been. And he was gone from them before he knew it. (And it hurt. It hurt a lot. A lot, a lot…but he’d do it for Dream. Anything.)

Then he was surrounded by love it felt like. So much affection he didn’t know what to do with, how to react, a world of soft and warm he didn’t think existed for people like them. They were all grown men who have killed and laughed at the violence. How was Sapnap to know there was such a thing as this kind of overwhelming love that Team Mafia was giving him?

And he was supposed to throw it all away? He loves Dream and George. More than the life itself. But he wants to indulge for longer. And longer. And longer…Then it was too long and he fucked it all up. Was selfish for too long…Stripped from the constant hugs and kisses and praise and touches and closeness the Team have given him every single day since he’s been with them. He feels cold. 

He’d do almost anything to get it back. But what they want is the only thing he can’t bring himself to do. He /can’t/ even imagine hurting Dream and George. Can’t imagine being the final blow to the family. It would destroy them, would destroy him. The guilt would leave him more hollow than the warmth the Team have just stripped him of. 

But as it stands now. The uncertainty and unknown of what’s happening beyond this room is slowly killing him. 

Farfa had said a /present/. He can only fear the worst. What if he brings proof of the downfall of his family. An ear, a finger, a hand, an eye….a head….Wrought without him even needed. Just to rub in his face how worthless he really was to them, /all/ of them. Because he is, isn’t he?

Could barely function in the Team’s business aside from being an attack dog, told who to kill while another member kept watch on him, a trainer to make sure he did well. And they always made sure to tell him he did…He couldn’t speak their language enough to help on the bureaucracy like he did with Dream and George. Couldn’t help with deals or any kind of serious threats. They tried teaching him threatening phrases only for them to laugh in affection, like a child learning bad words that the older kids found hilarious….It was embarrassing but he couldn’t mind the shame, he was in love with the attention. Craved it. So much so he couldn’t even carry out Dream’s orders, plans. Ignored them and stretched the truths, peppering white lies in his reports back to them. Anything to make what he thought was paradise last just a little longer. The reports becoming more about asking about how the two of them were doing. Messages about missing each other. Wanting each other….Fantasizing about having it all. Trying to see if he alone could make it where the two families could unite. Unable to bear the thought of being the downfall to Team Mafia. If only he could laugh at his past self. Or maybe tell him to run away from it all.

He doesn’t know how long he’s there alone and rotting. It’s not until he starts calling for them, desperate. For any of them, all of them…that one of them does appears. He hears the door opening and he’ll stare at the doorknob unlock and slowly open. Not all the way. Only for one of them to slip through. It’s Serpias.

He’ll approach Sapnap, a soft smile on his face the entire time. Sapnap frozen, watching, waiting for some cruelty. Serpias will stand before him and open his arms and whatever spell Sapnap was in will break and he’ll run and cling to him. He’s sorry. Sosososososo sorry.

“Ya, ya. Esta bien mi amor. Shh.”

And it’ll be soft and warm. 

They’ll be sitting on the cot, Sapnap will have calmed down, basking in the quiet warmth. Not wanting to let go. Then Serpias will speak again.

“You ready mi amor?”

Sapnap will look at him, confused.

“For your present, Sapni.” Serpias’ soft smile will grow wider, his eyes full of the mischief Sapnap had grown familiar to seeing. Like a cat who’s having the last laugh. Sapnap feels his stomach drop.

Serpias will have his phone out and is already calling someone. He knows it’s Farfa on the other end. He’s begging Serpias what he means. He starts apologizing and begging. Serpias is just shushing him and petting his hair, continuing to talk with Farfa. He can hear them both laughing. They’re laughing at him again, he thinks.

And then the door is opening. He hears shouting. But it isn’t in Spanish.  The door will slam open this time and he’ll flinch in Serpias’ arms. Then two bodies are thrown to the ground. 

Sapnap is staring. The two are yelling, looking around and suddenly their eyes finally meet with Sapnap’s.

The three are together on the ground before they even know it. Sapnap couldn’t even tell you how he got there, but he doesn’t want to ever let go. They’re /here/. Alive. Alivealivealive. 

Dream and George.

It could’ve been minutes or hours. Seconds or days. Sapnap could’ve stayed holding them for eternity. Block out the rest of the world and stay in this moment forever. Together forever. And ever and ever and ever.

Then the bubble is popped. Someone clears their throat, Sapnap can’t tell who. He can feel Dream hold them even tighter, he’s looking at the group of men by the door. His face is full of anger. Creases full of scorn. Sapnap hates it.

“Sapniii.” It’s Serpias. When did he make it back to the door…?

Sapnap is staring at them all. He’s done that a lot today. They’re all grinning at them, at him. He doesn’t know what they want from him, but he feels cold again. Even when he can feel George and Dream hold him even tigher. Tighter and tighter. It hurts.

“Qué se dice?”

Sapnap is quiet. He knows what it means. He wants to hide away.

“Sapnap. Manners.” It’s Shadoune who speaks up.

He feels his face turning red.

“G-gracias.” His voice cracks. He can feel Dream and George staring at him. But he doesn’t want to look at them. Not anymore.

“Gracias que?” It’s Farfa. There’s a glee in his voice. He knows what they’re trying to prove. In front of Dream and George.

He locks eyes with Farfadox.

He can feel his voice shake and crack. His cheeks are burning but he can’t even hear himself with the blood rushing through his ears. Repeating a phrase he’s said a thousand times to Farfa. Just for fun and teasing beforehand. Though, Farfadox always found ways to make him embarrassed by saying it. Just like now.

They all laugh at him. And then they’re gone. He can hear the click of the lock.

“Sapnap. What the fuck.”

He wants to fall into the void.

ANYWAYS.

I can imagine Sapnap just hysterically saying he loves George and Dream over and over after all that. He needs to make sure that they don’t think he’s betrayed them. Haha. 

George probs gives Sapnap a harder time on it all. Dream is pretty Tired. And would like a Break:tm:. They can process it all later….and once they do, it’s a lot of teasing Sapnap, which makes him want to hide away pffft. They do eventually do /talk/. Sapnap gets his chance to explain, although he’s not the best guy to articulate all his feelings. The good news though is that Dream and George are the best guys to understand him! They tease him even more though lmao. George does Not let up.

It think some silly times are warranted for the grief Sapnap put himself through

It’s like the three of them were never separated, they just have new material on Sapnap. They really miss each other

On the idea of wedding rings! I was thinking more promise rings, or at least at first. They gave it to each other before Dream even succeeded the role of Don. Maybe even before. When they were kids and still trying to survive in the family, never kind to the children trying to take over their elders. 3 bands George had stolen. Sapnap had made fun of him back then, they were plain and had no diamonds to pawn off. Dream is the one who suggested them to be promise rings.

They’ll look after each other. Promise to always be there for each other. Forever. Marriage was too much of a legal contract in their eyes. At least back then, when they were still too young to understand what else marriage could mean. Sapnap had left it behind before he left, for safekeeping. He’s never had it off for this long before. 

Before they had their serious talk yet, George and Sapnap were in the middle of another argument, locked in this basement. It feels like they've been arguing a lot since they've reunited….Sapnap feeling overwhelmed. He blames himself a lot for all of this. He doesn’t feel he deserves them anymore. He was just shouting at George and George was shouting back. And shouting and shouting. And George will throw the ring at him. 

And Sapnap will shut up. But George will keep shouting. Sapnap will hold the ring so close to his chest and let George keep shouting at him. He’ll zone it all out because it’s nothing new he hasn’t been telling himself. Dream will be the one to pull him back. George has stopped shouting. They’re all sitting together and Dream is trying to get him to breathe once Sapnap comes back to.

George will be rubbing his knuckles. Sapnap will tell them he loves them again. Dream will say he knows. George will hold Sapnap’s hand out as Dream slips the ring back on.

“Let's get married.” Sapnap said it without even thinking. Quiet. He can feel them hold him tight.

“Forever.” “And ever.” 

With a shaky breath, Sapnap will relax and end their mantra, “…and ever.”

There’s a lot I want to spin about dnf’s stay with the Team, learning about the members, what actually happened to Dream’s family that I wanna yap about, but will have to do that some other time hehe

To the Team’s jealousy of Sapnap wearing the ring, fucking in love with the idea of it just rubbing them wrong when they notice it on Sapnap after a while of dteam staying with them. 

Everyone should go check out Rat’s lil snippet of Shadoune being the one to confront Sapnap about it heh (it’s awesome)

Though I can imagine it being Serpias bringing it up first since he tends to bark and growl whenever he got jealous of Sapnap being affectionate to others, even with other members from the Team during Dedsafio pft (Although I also imagine Serpias is also the mvp of actually getting Dream and George accommodated more!)

But the Team DEFINITELY do get Sapnap a ring, and I fucking love the one Rat described :3c

(Although!! I did debate the idea of a tattoo! But I never pushed the thought very far cause I knew my brain would go down another rabbit hole heheh

The Team finding out about Dream’s….sleeping habit is something they come to notice really early on, but they attributed it to him being stressed and overprotective of Sapnap and George, not wanting to let them out of his sight or to let any of the Team separating them. They’ll be dropping off food and water for the three and while they did predict one of them to always be awake now to try and keep watch or fight to try and over power them….they didn’t really expect it to be Dream always awake and glaring at them. Sometimes snf will be up with Dream but the Team actually never saw Dream asleep the entire time the trio were kept in that basement. (I do wanna spin around the eventual lead up to them being let out too, the kind of tentative trust that’s given to all of them. How Dream’s exhaustion /will/ eventually lead to dropping his guard and warming up to some of the members (farfa, conter, shadoune, serpias etc…))

Dream would NOT be relaxed for a /long/ time. He is(was?) a Don. He will be worried about the remaining members of his family the entire time he’s there. He isn’t stupid, he KNOWS Team Mafia was set on destroying everything he controlled and absorbing it into their own power. Killing anyone who will speak out or oppose them. But he also knows that they do /not/ know how to manage it. They won’t be able to replace everyone, won’t be able to buy off and control everything that used to be in Dream’s grasp. It will eventually lead into chaos. Dream has his own contingency plans in place and he knows the remaining closest members know what to do. After what Dream’s family went through before Sapnap was sent to Team Mafia, Dream had razed through his own family, weeding out every single rat and making sure there were plans in place so this would /never/ happen again. Team Mafia might think they’ve taken over. But Dream knows better. With Q’s cartel growing and his own territory in disarray, he knows they’ll need him…. And he’ll wait until they come to him for help. 

(And when they do, Dream will be at a point where he won’t even want to negotiate taking over again, not even trying to grab more power. He would only want his family safe. The Team would have forced Dream to rest and sleep a lot before it came to this point but it never quite worked, he was getting sick constantly, extremely ill to the point Sapnap and George were begging him that it will be okay and to stop already…Them used to Dream overworking and never being able to convince him otherwise, but now it was the worst they’ve ever seen….Dream just won’t accept the warmth fully until Team Mafia, ElRich himself, finally comes to Dream for help, where he will finally relax.)

[jewishvitya]

חודש אלול. מה שאומר שנראה אנשים יום אחד מסיתים לרצח עם וחוגגים כי ילדים מתים בעזה, וביום הבא עושים תשליך ומתפללים עבור מחילה.

מנחם אותי לדעת שעל עבירות שבין האדם לחברו יום כיפור לא מכפר.

[queeraliensposts]

Friendly reminder, by celebrating the possibility of a celebrity you don't like might get deported, you are also celebrating the fact that innocent children, and workers are getting deported.